Back Cover Copy:

   After vanquishing  master vampire Henri Devereaux, Little Hawk returns home from New Orleans to a hero's welcome, only to discover his grandfather has disappeared. When Chief Rising Moon also vanishes, a stranger named Lakota Joe, who claims to be a friend of the chief, offers an explanation... they were taken by an ancient creature that had been imprisoned on a different plane of reality by one of Little Hawk's shaman ancestors. To save them, David must undertake a vision quest, alone in the desert, in hopes of contacting his Spirit Guide.                           

   With Lakota Joe's assistance, can Little Hawk learn to walk the Spirit Path and save Grandfather and the chief from an ancient, mythological monster?

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1

Homecoming

   Heat waves radiated from the black, asphalt surface and the surrounding desert landscape, making the air appear to ripple and shimmer, as the late afternoon sun marched toward the horizon. The charcoal-colored Camaro slowed and turned off the state highway, onto the smaller road that led into the tribal community. Little Hawk leaned forward, between the two front seats, his pulse quickening; he couldn’t wait to see his grandfather. He was eager to continue his shaman training, but even more than that he wanted to discuss all that had happened in New Orleans, and the strange occurrences he had experienced; he had so many questions that he desperately needed to have answered. After several agonizing minutes, the center of the community came into view amidst the shimmering waves of heat; David sat back and let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding in anticipation.

   James pulled the Camaro to a stop in front of the Tribal Council Hall and let out a slow, sad sigh. He looked at the back-seat passengers in the rearview mirror. David met his gaze and gave him a small, cheerless smile; he smiled back. “Well, we made it,” he said. He bent his neck to look under the visor that was obscuring his view of the building. The door to the building opened and a large crowd of people flowed out onto the porch, it seemed as if the entire tribe had come out to greet them. “We’re home,” he added, finishing his thought.

   James opened the driver’s door and climbed out of the car as Horace stepped out on the passenger’s side. Horace had played a big part in Matt Half-moon’s death and, even though none of the others believed he should be held responsible for his actions while under Henri Devereaux’s spell, he had decided to come along to bring Matt home. During the trip, he had confided to James that because he had played a part in Matt’s death, he felt making sure his body made it safely back home was the least he could do. It was not only a privilege; he felt it was his solemn duty.

   Leaning down, Horace activated the lever that allows the passenger seatback to fold forward so those in the rear seat can exit the vehicle; James did the same on his side. Mary climbed out on the driver’s side of the car while William and David exited on the other side next to Horace. 

   James and Mary moved around the car to stand with the others as a small group of men, led by Chief Rising Moon, descended the steps of the building, and walked toward the travelers. The chief stopped before James and extended his hand; James took it with a solemn bow of his head.

   “Welcome home,” Chief Rising Moon said, with a sad smile.

   “Thank you, Chief,” James replied. “I only wish the circumstances were happier.”

   “So do I,” the chief agreed. He released James’ hand and turned to embrace Mary. Then he stepped in front of William and shook his hand. “I give thanks to the Great Spirit, for the miracle that returned the two of you to us,” he said, looking from one to the other. James had taken the opportunity, during his break from driving, to inform the chief of everything that had taken place in New Orleans.

   Looking past William, the chief’s eyes came to rest upon Horace. A stern look crossed his face as he stepped toward the man who had assisted the monsters that had attacked his people, injuring many and taking numerous lives, including the life of the tribal Police Chief, Matt Half-moon. Horace shrank back as the chief approached him, for with his strong, erect posture, Chief Rising Moon seemed to tower over him. The chief stopped and considered him for a moment, before finally extending his hand.  “James has suggested to me that you should not be held accountable for your actions against us, because you were not of your own mind. I have to admit; that is something that has been hard for me to come to terms with. But, as you took it upon yourself to see Matt home, I see that as an attempt to begin making amends; so, I will try to take his advice to heart.”

   Horace stood, for a long moment, staring at the chief’s hand; not certain he deserved the forgiveness this man seemed to be so graciously offering to him. Deciding he would make sure he did, he grasped the chief’s hand and looked up at him; the depth of his sorrow was reflected in his eyes. “I am truly sorry for the part I played in any sufferin’ brought ’pon your people,” Horace said, as he hung his head.

   Chief Rising Moon laid his hand on Horace’s shoulder and gave it a slight shake. Horace looked up and the chief gave him a small smile. “Thank you,” he said. He stepped past Horace and stopped in front of Little Hawk.

   David shifted from foot to foot, as the chief stood looking down at him in silence. It seemed all attention was now focused on him; and that feeling of being the center of attention always made him nervous. He looked up at the chief and slowly extended his hand. To his surprise, Chief Rising Moon grabbed him and pulled him into a firm embrace. David stood with his arms trapped by his sides, and an awkward expression on his face, until the chief released him from his hug and led him to the porch amid cheers and applause from the throng of people gathered there. He looked around, bewildered, at the many faces looking back at him.

   The chief raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “It is with happy, yet heavy, hearts that we welcome our friends home. Thanks to Little Hawk’s courage and determination, the monsters who threatened our people have all been destroyed.” A cheer went up from the crowd again, and David blushed. The chief continued, “It was he who, without regard for his own safety… and against the wise council of others, decided to stand his ground on the night the beast’s minions attacked our community. And, he personally dispatched two of the vile creatures. It was also he who, again against the advice of others, determined to follow the monster to New Orleans. It is because of his selfless actions that the beast was slain, and two members of our beloved family have been returned to us.” The crowd cheered again. “But our joy at their homecoming is diminished, for of the two brave men who chose to accompany Little Hawk on his dangerous quest, only one of them has returned alive and, mostly, unharmed.” The chief turned to James and nodded.

   James moved to the back of the car, where he was joined by Horace and William; three other men, from the group who had followed the chief off the porch, moved toward them. James opened the trunk and leaned in; Horace followed suit and they lifted Matt’s body, wrapped in dark plastic, from the vehicle. William joined James at Matt’s shoulders and another man moved to his feet to assist Horace, while the other two men stepped to either side and slipped their hands under Matt’s midsection. Together, the six men carried Matt’s body into the Tribal Council Hall and laid him on a table that had been set up on the stage in the auditorium.

   The three additional men descended the steps from the stage; the chief thanked each of them for their assistance. Then he climbed the stairs and moved next to Horace, James, and William, who all had their heads bowed and seemed to be saying a silent prayer over Matt.

   “So, whose idea was it to wrap Matt’s body in dark plastic?” the chief asked when all of them had raised their head.

   “Horace’s,” James answered. “He thought it would be easier on Matt’s parents, and the rest of the people, if they didn’t have to see Matt’s actual body in the trunk.”

   “That was good thinking,” the chief said, laying a grateful hand on Horace’s shoulder.

   “I’m surprised they aren’t here,” James said, referring to Matt’s parents. He looked at the gathered crowd, to ensure he hadn’t overlooked them.

   “They said they would feel better coming to see him after the rest of the people had left,” the chief confided. “They didn’t want their grief to become a public spectacle.”

   James nodded. “That’s understandable,” he said, as he rubbed his side. Horace nodded agreement as he massaged his leg. The wounds they had received in New Orleans were bothering them after the strain and exertion of lifting Matt’s body from the trunk and carrying him inside.

   Noticing their discomfort, the chief said, “I’ll have John Walker attend to your injuries, before he begins preparing Matt’s body for…”

   “John Walker?” David interrupted; he, Mary, and most of the other people, had followed the procession into the auditorium. “Why doesn’t Grandfather look at their wounds and take care of Matt? After all, he is the shaman.”

   A quiet murmur spread among the townspeople, and they began to make their way toward the exit. The chief drew in a slow breath and turned to look at David. William hurried down the steps from the stage and stood by his wife and son, as James and Horace looked on with anxiety written on their faces.

   “Little Hawk,” Chief Rising Moon said, “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but…”

   “Where are Grandfather and Grandma?” David asked, with concern rising in his voice, as he looked from the chief to his parents. It had surprised him to find his grandparents weren’t waiting for them at the Tribal Council Hall, with the chief and the rest of the people, but now his surprise turned to worry.

   “I was going to tell you on the drive home...” William started.

   “But I told him not to; you had enough on your mind and didn’t need to worry about something you couldn’t do anything about… and which may turn out to be nothing at all,” James interjected.

   “And I agreed,” Mary said, touching David’s shoulder.

   “As did I,” Chief Rising Moon confided.

   “Me too,” Horace added.

   “Tell me what…. what can’t I do anything about’?” David asked, looking from his father to his mother and then at the rest of the group, as if searching their eyes for answers. “What’s happened? Where are Grandfather and Grandmother?” he asked again.

   “Your grandmother is at home, Little Hawk,” the chief said. “But your Grandfather…” he paused, as if unsure what to say.

   “What about him?” David asked, when it appeared the chief did not intend to finish his statement.  “Where is Grandfather?”    

   “I don’t know, David,” the chief replied, “he never came down from the plateau.”

   “What do you mean he never came down, then where is he?” Little Hawk demanded, as if unable to comprehend the meaning of what the chief was telling him.

   “I sent two Tribal Police officers, and a small group of volunteers, to search for him; they found his campsite on the mesa…” the chief said, his voice trailing off. He didn’t want to frighten the boy, so he was taking care to consider what to say next.

   “And?!” Little Hawk yelled, at the chief.

   “He wasn’t there. He was just… gone,” Chief Rising Moon replied, in a matter-of-fact tone.

   “Gone… gone where?” David challenged him. “How?”

   “I don’t know. The search team found the shaman’s footprints leading up the side of the mesa; and there were many around the fire pit. It appeared he may have been performing a ritual,” the chief explained. David stepped away from his parents and began to pace back and forth; his head bowed in thought as he listened to the chief. “There were no other footprints going in toward the campsite, and there were none at all leaving the plateau; but still, Little Hawk, your grandfather is missing.”

   David recalled thinking he had heard his grandfather’s voice calling out to him, followed by the word ‘help’, as he and his mother had assisted Horace through the house in New Orleans. At the time, he thought he had only imagined it. But then he had been unable to contact Grandfather after he had revived his father, or on the trip home… could he have been wrong? A cold fear gripped his heart. Drawing in a long, cleansing breath, Little Hawk stopped pacing and looked up at the chief. All the adults expected to see worry and fear written on his young face; instead they were met by the bold look of resolve and determination James and Chief Rising Moon had come to know so well, over the past few weeks.

 

2

Search Party

   Little Hawk burst through the front door of his grandparents’ house. “Grandmother, Grandmother,” he called. The door slammed against the wire door stop and bounced away from the wall, sending a loud, irritating “twang” echoing through the room.  

   A noise came to him, from the kitchen, and he raced across the living room. Stopping, he counted to ten before pushing the door open; Grandmother had taught him to do this, when he was in a hurry, just in case somebody was coming toward the door from the opposite direction. In the past, he had bowled over everyone in his family, at least once, when he had come barreling through the door. He stepped into the kitchen; his mother, father, Chief Rising Moon, and James rushed into the house through the front door he had left standing wide open, and followed after him.

   Grandmother sat at the table, while five other ladies sat or stood around her. She looked up as David moved toward her; her eyes were puffy and wet from the tears she had shed all too frequently since learning of her husband’s disappearance. She stood and pulled him into a soft, warm embrace, burying her face in his hair. Little Hawk stood as tall as he could and hugged her back.

   Taking a step back, she cupped his face in her hands and smiled at him. “I am so glad you are home again, and safe now,” she said. Then, looking at the others who had followed him into the room, she moved toward them. Taking Mary and William both by a hand, she pulled them to her. They moved in together and she hugged them tight. “Chief Rising Moon told me of the good fortune that returned you both to us. I could not have dreamed or hoped for such a wonderful outcome. I am so happy to have you both home.” She gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

   “And we’re glad to be home, Mom,” William said. “Even though we both hoped we could find a way to save David, neither of us thought we’d survive the ordeal; let alone be normal again. I still can’t believe it.” Mary nodded her agreement.

   Grandmother smiled again and touched them both on the cheek; then she stepped around William and moved toward James with her hands extended. He reached out and took both her hands in his. “Thank you for keeping David safe and helping him restore our family,” she said. “We could not ask for two more brave friends than you and Matthew have been.” James blinked away tears at his friend’s name, and she flushed at her inadvertent insensitivity. “Please forgive me, James; I am so sorry for your loss. Chief Rising Moon told me of Matt’s… passing; I didn’t mean to upset you.”

   James gave her a sad smile. “There is nothing to forgive, Luisa. Matt was truly a good friend and a courageous man; that should be recognized and celebrated. I will miss him,” he said. Matt had been James’ best friend since childhood. Their families had lived next-door to each other and they had been in all the same classes through elementary, middle, and high school. They had even dated several of the same girls, at different times, during their teenage years. When James left the reservation to join the Army, and Matt left to join the New Mexico State Police, they kept in touch by writing and calling several times a week. Their friendship had grown even stronger after they had both returned home.

   Grandmother smiled and laid a hand on James’ cheek, then stepped toward the chief.

   He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “How have you been today, Luisa?” he asked.

   Grandmother gave him a sad smile. “About the same; the crying comes and goes. Having the girls here has been a great comfort,” she said. She looked back and smiled at her friends. They all smiled back, as she returned her attention to the chief. “Has there been any word?” she asked, with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

   He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I sent another team out earlier to search the sides of the mesa, and the trail leading up to the plateau again; they returned just shortly before Little Hawk and the others arrived. They found no sign the shaman, or anyone else, had been there since the previous search team. They did find a cave, on the farther side of the mesa, and they checked it out. There were signs that it may have been used for shelter or something at some point in time… but not recently.”

   Grandmother hung her head and returned to her seat; letting out a slow, sad sigh, as hope turned to despair. Several of her friends reached out and touched her hands.

   “I promise you, Luisa, we will not stop searching until the shaman is found. We will bring him home,” Chief Rising Moon said, with conviction. “I will send another team tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and the next until….”

   “I’m going to help search, too!” Little Hawk blurted, cutting off the chief in mid-sentence. Chief Rising Moon gave him a knowing look, as Mary and William started to protest. Little Hawk raised his hands, as he had often seen the chief do to quiet a raucous crowd. “Please Mom, Dad, listen to me. It only makes sense that I should be the one to look for Grandfather. I have a connection with him; I can feel his presence. Nobody else in this town can say that; not even you, Dad.”

   William looked at his son with newfound pride. “You sure have grown up over the past few weeks, haven’t you?” he said. “You’re right; you should be on the search party. Maybe these extra senses you’re developing will provide a lead. But I’m going along with you.”

   Mary looked surprised and stated her objection to this new turn of events. “Honey, with what we just went through, you need to rest… both of you need to rest.”

   William looked her in the eyes. “Baby, he’s my dad.”

   Mary smiled at him, and nodded in resignation, then reached out to David. He moved to her side and took her hand. “You’re both right,” she sighed. “Okay, you can go along with the search party; I’ll stay here and take care of Grandma. But you’d better be careful… that goes for both of you,” she added, looking from one to the other. William and David nodded in reply.

   “Well, now that that’s resolved, this seems rather anticlimactic,” James said. The others looked at him. “I’m going along, too.”

   Little Hawk smiled. He was glad James was going to be there; he had come to depend on his support and guidance in the rather short time he had gotten to know him.

   “So,” Chief Rising Moon said, “I will let officers Riverstone and Youngblood know the three of you will be joining their team. First thing in the morning, we’ll meet at Police Headquarters and decide where we should conduct the next search.”

   Little Hawk stepped away from his parents. “No, Chief, not tomorrow morning,” he said, with that tone of resolve James knew meant he had already decided on a course of action, and nobody would be talking him out of it.

   “But I thought you would want to head out as soon as possible, Little Hawk. I can delay the start for a little while, if you want, but…”

   “No, Chief, I mean I’m not waiting until tomorrow morning; I’m going to the mesa now.”

 

   Try as they might, neither Mary, William, nor Chief Rising Moon could talk Little Hawk into delaying the start of the search until morning. James didn’t even try.

   “David, honey, it’s going to be dark soon and it gets very cold on the mesa at night,” Mary reasoned.

   “We can wear jackets and light a fire,” he replied.

   James smiled to himself. “Score one for the kid,” he thought.

   “Your mom’s right, son, we should wait until morning to start our search. Not only is the desert cold at night, it’s also more dangerous. Think about the critters that come out at night; coyotes, scorpions, even some very venomous snakes are still out at this hour,” William offered.

   “The fire will keep them away,” David countered.

   “That’s two for the kid,” James thought, but he held his tongue; waiting to see what other argument would be made only to be shot down.

   “Little Hawk, even with a fire and flashlights, you won’t be able to see well enough to search effectively, once the sun goes down; you need the full light of day, so you don’t miss anything,” Chief Rising Moon said.

   “I’m not planning to use only my eyes,” Little Hawk replied, with a determined note of finality in his voice.

   “And that’s three,” James said, stepping forward; all eyes in the room turned to him. “Three strikes and you’re out; as they say in baseball.” Mary took a breath and opened her mouth to argue. “Listen,” James continued; directing his comments mostly to her, “you can stand here for another hour arguing with him, but… Chief, you can back me up on this, once the kid sets his mind on something, that is exactly what he’s going to do. So, we can either go to the mesa with him, right now; or I guarantee you we’ll be going there to find him later… because, believe me, he is going.”

   Thus, less than half an hour later, as the sun was beginning to sink below the tops of the hills in the distance; David, William, James, and officers Riverstone and Youngblood cruised along the road that meandered toward the mesa. When the Jeep Cherokee (an irony not lost on any of the men), that the tribal police used as a patrol vehicle, stopped at the bottom of the path leading up the hillside to the plateau, the men climbed out and walked to the back. Officer Riverstone opened the Jeep’s cargo door and started handing out flashlights, bottles of water, and a first-aid kit.

   James looked up, after clipping a flashlight to his belt; David was already several yards along the path leading to the top of the mesa. A feeling of uneasiness settled into the pit of James’ stomach. “Little Hawk!” he called. William looked up and saw David turning toward them; he looked lost in thought. “Get back here,” James continued, “you need your jacket, and a flashlight.”

   David shrugged and started back toward the car; he had only taken two steps when he heard a loud rattle and a hiss. A large diamondback rattlesnake skittered across the path behind him, only inches from the spot he had been standing just moments before. He could hear it slithering across the path.

   William’s eyes grew wide. “David, run; snake!” he yelled. David responded immediately and took off at full speed toward the car. “Are you okay?” William asked, as he looked over his son’s legs to verify that the snake hadn’t struck him.

   “Yeah, I’m fine. He never really got that close to me,” David said.

   “Well, another step in the other direction, before you started back, and it could’ve been a whole different story, Kiddo,” James admonished him. “You stick close to someone with a gun, you got that?”

   “David, you listen to James. There are many things, besides rattlesnakes, out here that can really hurt you or even kill you,” William said. “This isn’t the village or a city; the desert is a very dangerous place.”

   “Like New Orleans wasn’t dangerous?” David said, with a little more sarcasm than he had intended. Officer Riverstone handed him a flashlight and bottle of water. David took them and opened the car door to retrieve his jacket from the backseat. Putting on his coat, he stuffed the light and water in a pocket, and then walked to the front of the car and sat on the bumper to wait for the others.

   “David, I didn’t mean…” William called after him.

   James touched his arm. “Give him a minute, he’ll be fine. The kid’s got a lot going on in his head right now; more than we had to deal with at his age.”

   “I know. I’m just trying to protect him,” William said.

   “As any good father would, he’ll see that too… in time,” James replied, with a gentle smile.

   “I hope you’re right,” William said.

 

   Together the team started up the side of the mesa. They had only gone several yards when Officer Youngblood drew his service pistol and called for a halt. He took several cautious steps forward, scanning the path, and the areas near it, for any sign of the rattlesnake. Seeing none, he motioned the others on, and they continued their upward trek.

   The climb to the plateau was gentle, but long and tedious. After half an hour of picking their way through the growing shadows along a path of loose sand and gravel that ran flat and straight in some areas, but had switchbacks and inclines in others, they arrived on the plateau.

   “Well, here we are. As you can see, there was a fire over there,” Officer Riverstone said, pointing to a heavily charred spot near the center of the hilltop. It was the very same spot where Grandfather and Little Hawk had sat by a fire, what now seemed like so many weeks ago, as Grandfather had struggled to save him from the almost catatonic state he had fallen into, after Devereaux had attacked the family on the highway. “The embers were still warm when we first arrived to look for the shaman,” the patrolman added.

   David moved next to the remnants of the fire and walked around it; looking at the ground, he tilted his head and knelt next to the small pile of charred wood. The light was fading, as the sun continued its downward march toward evening, but there was something here; something about the marks on the ground.

   Officer Riverstone noticed the puzzled look on David’s face, and stepped next to him.   “They’re mostly gone now, but when we first got here there were a lot of footprints all around the fire pit. We figured they were made by the shaman walking around the fire,” he said.

   David nodded. “That makes sense,” he agreed, “they were probably made when Grandfather was performing the ritual that let him watch over me. But that’s not what I was looking at.”  He pointed at the ground. “I was looking at these marks,” he said, indicating numerous black scorch marks several feet away on different sides of the fire pit.

   “We figured they were from other small fires people had set up here; or maybe from fires started by sparks being cast off from larger fires that had been burned here over the years,” Officer Riverstone said.

   “They don’t look like marks made by stray sparks or a fire that someone set in those spots; see they’re shaped different.” David indicated the large charred spot and another smaller spot where he had seen other fires lit; then he moved closer to one of the mysterious marks and ran his hand over it. “These marks look like they were made by something hitting the ground at an angle, see how the edges of the dents slide away from the darker spot? It’s not like someone dug a pit, like in the other places. And when sparks start a small fire, they usually leave a rounder mark, and no dent,” he said, looking up toward the darkening sky.

   “You seem to know a lot about fires,” Officer Riverstone said, giving him an inquisitive look.

   “I help grandfather start the fire when we have cookouts and stuff.  He taught me a lot about them; and sometimes I have to stomp out small fires from stray cinders. So, I know what their marks look like,” David explained.

   Officer Youngblood, who was still rather new to the tribal police force, had moved closer to observe and listen to their conversation. “Well, several people did report seeing lightning above the plateau about the time we believe the shaman went missing. Maybe a couple of bolts struck the ground,” he said.

   “Lightning?” James asked; he and William had also moved closer to see what had disturbed Little Hawk about the fire pit.

   “Yeah, but we don’t have anything other than hearsay; and if the shaman had been hit by lightning, there’d at least be a body… or parts of one,” the young officer continued without thinking.  Officer Riverstone, the more senior of the two police officers, threw him a mixed look of disbelief and ‘shut-up’. Officer Youngblood closed his eyes in frustration at his own insensitivity. Opening them, he looked at William and David, “I am so sorry, about that. I meant no…”

   “No, that’s alright,” William said, “at least that’s one possible scenario we can rule out.”   Officer Youngblood nodded, still upset at himself for his blatant display of stupidity. When William walked toward David, Officer Riverstone pulled Officer Youngblood aside for a quick critique of his actions and a little On the Job Training regarding what and what not to say to the family of a missing person. “Are you getting anything, Son?” William asked, bringing David out of his own thoughts.

   “Not yet. Wherever Grandfather is, he’s not trying to contact me; or he’s unable to,” David said. He looked thoughtful, then his eyes lit up with inspiration. “We need that fire.”

   “A fire, why?” William asked. “I don’t think there are any snakes up here; and I don’t see any coyotes,” he said, looking around the plateau.

   “Grandfather always has a fire burning during his rituals; I think something about them helps his powers. Maybe lighting a fire will help me reach him or the Shaman Spirits with the Shaman Link.”

   “What’s the Shaman Link?” William asked.

   “Is that how he spoke with you in New Orleans?” James added.

   “Yes, it is. I don’t really know how it works, but Grandfather said that a shaman is connected to all previous shamans through the shaman medicine bag we carry, and the Shaman Link. If I can use it now, maybe I can find out where he is.”

   “It’s worth a try,” James said.

   “Everyone gather some more wood so we can get a fire going,” William called. He headed toward the edge of the mesa. Looking over the side, into the dimness of the growing twilight, he spotted several small trees that looked dead, or at least dying. “Over here,” he called to the others.

 

   David was uncertain how large a fire was required for a shaman ritual, so William and James built a roaring conflagration, using all the wood they had gathered from the side of the mesa and the small amount that remained from Grandfather’s supply. David sat down in front of it and stared into the flames.

   “So, how’s this work?” Officer Riverstone asked, not having been privy to David’s earlier explanation; due to his ‘training session’ with his junior partner.

   “I’m not really sure,” David replied, “I’ve always been on the other end of the link; except when it happened by accident.” He closed his eyes and tried focusing on his grandfather, as he had done in the past. Nothing came to him. He thought about the ritual of protection his grandfather had taught him to perform, and the chant he had learned. He thought of his grandfather, sitting before the fire chanting as he fought to pull Little Hawk ‘back from the brink’; as Grandfather had called it. Yes, he remembered everything about their previous time on the mesa, though at the time he could not fully comprehend it. An image of his grandfather appeared in his mind and he heard his grandfather’s voice; but it was only another memory. His grandfather was giving him his shaman medicine bag.

 

   “Little Hawk, this is my shaman’s medicine bag. It has been handed down through many generations of our family, from one shaman to the next. It has been with me for many years, and it has protected me well. Now, I give it to you. May it serve you as well as it has served me.”

   Little Hawk had reached out and taken the bag; it felt heavier than other medicine bags he had seen. “But, Grandfather, I thought each medicine bag had to be made just for the person that was going to carry it?” he had said.

   “That is correct. Normal medicine bags must be made specifically for each person. But this is a shaman’s medicine bag; there are certain items that must be included exclusively for a shaman, as well as the items for the specific person. The bag has been updated to add the items for each successive shaman; this links them with the spirits of those who have preceded them. Also, this is why it is larger and heavier than other medicine bags. I have updated the contents for you.”

   Little Hawk had looked at the medicine bag with newfound awe and respect. “I will keep it safe, and be proud to carry it,” he had told his grandfather.

 

   He reached down and touched his hip, where his medicine bag normally hung; his eyes flew open with realization. “I need my medicine bag,” he called. He jumped up and ran to his jacket. He had taken his medicine bag off his hip, and put it in his jacket pocket, during the car ride home from New Orleans. He hoped this would keep the ancient medicine wheel from getting damaged as he sat crumpled between his parents, and under the bag he was holding, in the cramped back seat of the Camaro. His jacket had lain on the back deck of the car, between the speakers, and then on the back seat of the patrol vehicle, until he put it on before climbing the mesa. He had taken it off again, and laid it aside, before he sat down in front of the fire; due to the tremendous heat being emitted by the blaze. Retrieving the medicine bag from his jacket pocket, he returned to his seat in front of the fire; still uncertain of how to contact Grandfather or the Shaman Spirits.

   Gazing into the fire, he focused his thoughts on his grandfather again. Memories of the elder shaman, asking for the Great Spirit’s blessing upon the tea and water he had used in his quest to destroy the vampire, came to mind.  A thought occurred to him; maybe the way to ask the Great Spirit and the Shaman Spirits for help… was to just ask.

   Holding the bag with both hands, and raising it above eye level, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Oh, Great Spirit, and spirits of all shamans who have gone before me,” he called, “here my plea; please show me what fate has befallen my grandfather.”

   Little Hawk’s body gave a violent twitch and then went stiff; as if he had been frozen in place. The men rushed to his side and tried to move him away from the fire, but they could not budge him.

   “Little Hawk. David,” William and James called, trying to wake him from the trance that had overcome the young shaman. It was no use, Little Hawk seemed lost to them and they were unable to do anything about it.

 

   Though the men were desperately trying to wake him in this realm, Little Hawk was unaware of their efforts; for his spirit had transcended this world and he was now standing on the mysterious plateau where he had met with his grandfather only a few days before. Once again, meteors were whizzing across the night sky, like magic pencil marks trying to connect the dots of the still alien constellations. A noise came from behind him and he spun around; hundreds of shadowy figures hovered in the distance.

   “Shamans, I need your help. My grandfather has disappeared; does he now exist among you?” Little Hawk called to the spirits, in a voice tinged with fear.

   “Noooo,” came the low, ghostly answer.

   “Do you know where he is or what has happened to him?” he asked, sounding relieved.

   “Yessss,” came the hushed reply.

   “Will you show me?”

   “Yessss,” the ghostly voices replied again. In a hundred hushed voices, the spirits of the shamans began to chant.

 

   The men jumped, in startled surprise when David’s body relaxed, and his eyes flew wide open. “David, are you alright? Little Hawk, talk to us, can you hear us?” they called.

 

   David didn’t answer them; for in his current state, he could only comprehend what was occurring on the mysterious plateau. He listened to the Shaman Spirits for a moment longer and then started to chant the same chant they were chanting. Images began to scroll through the air around him; his grandfather on the plateau, talking with him; Grandfather and the Shaman Spirits reaching across the spirit bridge that David’s growing powers had built, and coming to his aid; his grandfather’s voice calling out ‘helllp” as it faded away in the house in New Orleans.

   With a sudden brilliant flash, the context of the images changed; Grandfather was alone on the plateau with bolts of fire and lightning hitting the ground around him. His attention seemed focused on the sky, and he appeared to be using his staff to fend off an unknown attacker from above. A large bolt of lightning, from a distant storm, streaked across the sky, illuminating the aggressor for Grandfather to see, though David couldn’t. Grandfather froze in shock and his face lit up in disbelief as if he recognized his assailant. With his guard down, the attacker fired off another round.

 

   The men looked on in fear as Little Hawk threw himself backward and lay spread-eagle upon the ground. “Show me more,” they heard him say. His eyes stared straight ahead as if he were watching a movie that only he could see.

 

   The images surrounding Little Hawk changed again; merging to become one. Grandfather was unconscious and lying bound on the floor. David couldn’t see any details of the room, but the scene shimmered and waved, as if being viewed through a field of energy or radiant heat. The image went black.

 

   With worry in his voice, David called out, “Grandfather.” Then a look of fright filled his face. The men jumped when he screamed, “No!!”  and sat bolt upright. Panting, and covered in the cold sweat of fear, he looked around at the stunned faces of the men, and then bowed his head to hide his tears.

   They let him sit for a long moment, before James broke the tense silence that none of the others, not even William, seemed eager to break.  “Are you alright, Little Hawk?” he asked

   David nodded and looked at them. Wiping his eyes, he said, “The Shaman Spirits showed me what happened here, and I have a clue to where Grandfather is. I need to speak with the chief.” He tried to stand, but his head spun, and he almost fell over.

   William stepped next to him and caught him. He held on to his son, until he was able to steady himself and then let go of him; ready to catch him again if he started to fall. “David, is Grandfather alive?” he asked. David nodded. “So, tell me where he is, and I’ll go get him,” William added.

   “You can’t,” David said.

   “What do you mean; I can’t?”

   “Grandfather is alive. But you can’t go get him... none of you can, because he’s no longer in this world,” David said. He started tossing dirt onto the fire to extinguish it. The men helped him, and the fire was soon put out. Little Hawk turned and headed for the path to return to the vehicle. “I need to talk to Chief Rising Moon, now,” he said, over his shoulder, as the men followed him.

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