Coyote – Chapter 16

"That Jimmy Red Cloud is something else," Charlie muttered, mostly to himself.

Raven wrapped her fingers around the tin cup and breathed in the warmth curling up from it. The vapor caressed her face as the smoke from Thunder Horse's briar pipe danced over his head. The soft crackle and pop of the wood in the campfire was hypnotic. Her silent eyes traced the path of glowing embers wafting into the air, watching them as they burned brightly and then disappeared into the darkness outside of the cozy circle of light.

Even in the darkness, the canyon hummed with life around her. She could finally sense it again, fully, for the first time after that nightmarish attack of agony that had brought her here in the first place. There are scorpions here, she reminded herself. I must remember to check my bedroll for them before I sleep. The night shift of the animal kingdom was alive and well. She sensed the skittering of spiders from their lairs and the scampering of the kit fox and coyote on the prowl.

All this life... odd how someone born to destroy it feels such a connection to it.

She shook off the dark musing. The fire is...cheering. Garfield's new 'usual' spot next to her was just a void in the dark now, and its barrenness was keen. I do wish he were here, though. I can see him here, now, chatting away, talking enough for the both of us, trying to make me laugh. She allowed a soft smile to creep across her lips. One of the many great things about Garfield: he does not feel that I have to speak all the time. He is comfortable with my silence. He fills it so easily on his own.

She sipped at the cup again, turning her eyes up to the clear sky above her. She hoped that the incredible view there would ease the emptiness left by his absence. She looked for the star that Jimmy had dubbed her star. It was higher in the sky now, winking down at her like a long-lost friend sharing a secret. Violet eyes drifted away from the single star and watched the Milky Way meander in a lazy river of shining stars high above them. The longer she stared, the more stars she saw. The vast number of pinpricks of light swimming there made her a little dizzy after a moment. Her gaze returned to the fire in front of her. I have not seen a fire like this since the camping trip with my first team of Titans, she thought. My first real family. She laughed softly to herself. And I told my story, then, as well. Is it firelight that makes me so...talkative? Or just the stars? Or the air? Or—

"Buffalo nickel for your thoughts, Dawn Child," Thunder Horse said as he poured himself another mug of hot cocoa. "You were a million miles away there for a moment."

"No," she replied, "Just a few years in the past."

"Do you feel ready to talk to me about that past?"

"I think so, but to do so," she began as she adjusted her perch against the door of the Jeep, "I need for you to listen only with your – your Lakota Heart."

He nodded. "All right, little sister. All right. Take your time."

She gripped the tin cup more tightly, feeling the heat give a slight burn to her skin. The brief pain brought her focus back to the moment.

"The woman you call Angela, my mother, was known to me by another name. I did not know her real name, or her last name, until a few months ago. To me, she was Arella. And for many years, she was a stranger to me."

She continued her story, in as calm a voice as she could muster.

"You often speak of being half in one world and half in another. I, too, live in two worlds, but for a vastly different reason. It is the reason I have the...abilities...that you have seen – those abilities that would have me called a witch or even," she continued, remembering her recent foray into Native American lore, "among those we met tonight – a skinwalker."

Charlie puffed on his pipe. He removed it from his mouth in slow motion. A grave look crossed his face. "Do not say that word here lightly, little one. People here take such things seriously. Very seriously."

"I never use words lightly," she replied evenly. She spread her hands before the flames of the campfire and let the heat soak into them. "I read about such things before I came here. I believe they might fear me the same way that many fear me, except they have a stronger word for it." She set the tin cup down on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. "It seems that everyone is more eager to fear me than to know me."

He leaned forward and looked at her with kind eyes. "I do not fear you. I never have. You have great gifts. The gift of healing came from your mother's family, I am certain. It can be a difficult life, that of an empath. I know that. But it does not have to be so painful that you cannot live a full life. And you don't have to feel that everyone is afraid of you."

"Not all of my abilities come from your family, cousin. That is the difficult part of telling this story."

"You mean, your 'other' world?"

"Yes." She breathed deeply before continuing. "My father's world."

"Ah, yes, the mysterious father." He removed the pipe from his mouth and checked the bowl. He noticed her watching him. "Ah, the pipe. It lets me listen better – helps this old fool keep his mouth shut when others are talking. Keep going."

The sweet smell of his burning tobacco hung in the air like incense. It was a comforting smell. Not as comforting as a wet canine, but it will do for now.

"My father is...is not...human." Here we go.

His brow furrowed. "Not human? As in an alien? That is not entirely outlandish. Isn't your friend Star--Star—"

"Starfire. Yes, she is alien. But my father is not truly an alien –"

She continued the long, tortured story: of the cult that had used her mother, of her demon father, of the Azarath-shaking event of her birth, of the near-goddess Azar that had raised her, of coming to earth to seek others like her to fight her father and of the many battles they fought against him. Of her first death in that last battle at the hands of her own friends. As her words played out and clung to the tobacco smoke, the furrow in Charlie's brow deepened. The moon continued its trek through the night as her story poured from her. His barriers were up to her, so she was not sure which heart – the Lakota's or the Doctor's – was listening right now. And she was not sure if she would wake up in her sleeping bag or a strait jacket in the morning.

I am feeling holes in the night around me, empathic holes. The ground below her began to feel empty, as if she would sink through it at any moment. I must be creating that feeling myself. This task is not an easy one.

She recounted that brief time after her father's defeat, that time when her robes were white. It was a time she had pushed from her mind. The freedom she had felt then – so brief a blip on her radar that it was more like a dream – was painful to remember. The betrayal by gentle Joseph was almost too much to bear dwelling upon. It was that betrayal that had turned her dark again. It was that betrayal that led to her second death. A wistful bitterness rose in her throat as the words spilled from her. Oh, Jericho, you only sought to help me. The Wildebeest business – my responsibility, not yours. And now your kind soul lives only a disk, locked away in a digital prison. She could sense her cousin taking in not only her story but her patchwork feelings about it as well, and she could feel his reflecting those same emotions back out into the darkness outside the warm circle of the fire. She could feel that reflection as surely as she felt the pricking in her mind of those holes in the dark. They felt closer now.

It is just the coldness of my tale. That is all.

And she had thought – again – when she was pure spirit wandering the earth a short time ago – that she was free. That freedom lasted until she discovered herself fighting gravity again, her naked body dripping with the blood from which it was formed. It lasted until she found herself bound in stone by that moon-white Sebastian. She could still feel the roughness of the rock chafing the skin from her wrists and ankles. Sometimes in her dreams she was still locked in that suffocating hole, cold granite and hot blood pressing up against her. She could still smell the rotten flesh on his breath as his lips reached for her...

"—and the other Titans rescued me from Brother Blood just a little while before you and I met."

Charlie's pipe had long ago gone out, but it still sat between his teeth. He stared into the fire, whose flames were much lower now, for a long time without speaking. His heart was a closed book to her.

"So much for your being from Utah. A strange tale," he replied quietly. "A very strange tale. Dear Angela seeks a family. And she finds one. In a very bitter way, I think."

Will he hate me now? Will he fear me? Of course he will, everyone thinks I am the daughter of hell—

"Coyote bit her, I think. And bit you, too, my sweet child. I must think on this." He tapped his pipe and began to clean it with a metal tool. "You must be tired – I don't think I have ever heard you speak for so long at a sitting! Go to your tent and sleep, Dawn Child. Some of this talk should not be done in the dark. We can talk about this more in the morning."

(break)(break)

The motorcycle bearing the young green hero sped along the dirt road as he searched for the ranch. The address had been easier to find than he had hoped. The only motorcycle dealership in town was also the only car repair shop in town. The only car repair shop that Charlie was able to use. A couple of autographed pictures from Space Trek: 2022 later, and Gar had everything he needed.

"Please be there. Please be there," he chanted.

The darkness here was so different from the darkness of San Francisco. Even with the light of the moon and the stars above him, the blackness seemed to press in on him. The only light on the ground was that of his headlight shining ahead of him on the road cut into the parched earth.

A cluster of buildings loomed ahead. No lights on. They could be asleep. Please be there.

He parked the motorcycle and barely took the time to shut it off before running to what looked like the main house. He pounded his fist against the front door. Please be here, baby, be here. And, oh, God, I hope I'm wrong about Charlie. I didn't get you away from Blood Junior just to have you taken by a Terminator wanna-be.

There was no answer to his repeated knocks on the door. Time for the under-the-door-trick again, Rave. I've got to find you. I've got to know you're all right.

In the form of a sun-spider, he slipped under the door. A quick scan of the open room revealed it was empty of people, so he shifted to his blood-hound persona and sniffed the floor for traces of her scent.

She was here...and here...

He followed the trail down the long hallway. The scent was strongest in the middle bedroom on the left. Here. No trace of fear. None at all. So she was fine when she was here.

So where is she now?

He circled the interior of the house once, twice, three times. He found no evidence of a problem other than the complete absence of people. He slipped back out underneath the front door and continued his search of the outer buildings as a coyote. I'll blend in better in the dark – everyone is the same color if there's no light, he thought. So many smells here, hard to sort them out. A dog. He's gone, too. Horses. She was here. And over here...

So where is she now? Did you take her somewhere else, Charlie? What have you done to her? He cursed to himself the longest string of the most vulgar words he could conjure.

Why did Cyborg let you take her?

And why didn't I stop him? Damn. How could I just sleep through your taking her?

The exhaustion of his search was beginning to catch up with him. Can't rest now...gotta find her...

But they had left in a vehicle, and her scent always stopped at the tire tracks next to his parked motorcycle. Gotta stop, gotta think, where would they go from here?

Where?

Where?

He turned his coyote nose to the sky and felt a howl rip out of his chest. It was his first release of the tension he had been carrying for weeks, and it echoed across the open plain that rolled up to the canyons that surrounded the ranch.

(break)(break)

She sleeps just above, the pursuing shadow murmured to itself. She hurts. She hurts like I hurt long ago.

I hate the hurt.

I hate the pain.

But the pain means she's becoming like me. And when she does...her pain will end.

He lifted his small light higher against the wall of the cave. His dark eyes reflected the illumination. Strong hands stroked the drawings that she had uncovered that day. He traced the reds and the yellows staining the ancient rock with his fingers.

The red demon haunts my dreams. It sends me to you, Dawn Child. Tells me I need you. Calls you by another name. The Arjh-no-ree. The sacred one. The heart of the burning star. She tells me you can take away this curse.

And now I know from your story tonight – the demon is you.

Or was you.

So I know you can save me. Save me, Raven.

Somewhere in the distance, a coyote's wistful cry greeted the night sky. He heard the stirrings in her tent. He extinguished his light.

Tomorrow, Raven. Tomorrow.

(break)(break)

A long desolate howl invaded her sleep. She bolted upright as it roused her from lonely dreams. Those dreams were the last barrier between her and that biting, tearing resurgence of phantom pain. She choked back an answering wail of her own. Her eyes watered as the pain jarred her bones, and her skin burned in fine pinpricks of acid fire. She sank her teeth into the heel of her hand in a desperate attempt to hold back the moans that ached to escape. A scream wormed its way around in her chest, not only at the return of this unwelcome visitor but at the sudden void of life surrounding her. The throbbing in her small form cut her off from that desert song that she had heard a short while before.

I cannot let him drug me again...not again...

She tried to focus on something, anything, but the meditative state she sought eluded her. The hollows of her mind began to fill with static, and it was difficult to think. The tepid water in the canteen at her side only made her choke and sputter when she attempted to wet her parched throat. Huddling in her sleeping bag, she shivered, not sure if she were boiling or freezing.

Why this – why this pain? What is wrong with me? What is happening? Beloved ... where are you? Hurt...I hurt...

Her hand brushed the front of her hip and felt a square lump resting there. Reaching into her pocket, her shaking fingers retrieved the green chunk of candy. The wrapper stuck to it, and it was warm from her body heat. The sweetness and sourness of it soothed her as it melted on her tongue, and the static clouding her brain cleared a little. Her dream of a few days before came back to her, where the blond version of him asked how she preferred him to be.

It matters not. I will take you any way I can get you, she mused.

The pain receded a bit when faced with this tiny green delicacy. Focusing on the flavor distracted her from its fire. As the candy melted down, the knots in her muscles began to relax. The substitute taste of him tickled her memory, and she imagined him next to her, curled up behind her and breathing softly against her neck. She shivered again, but this time it was with a mischievous glee; not too long ago even fantasizing about touch was taboo to her.

My 'rest' here does not help the pain. But he does. Even the thought of him does. Does that mean this is real?

The agony simmered down to a tolerable level as the sense of life around her began to return. There were holes in that sensuous circle, but she was sure that they would be filled again with time. She swallowed the last sliver of the candy before drifting off to a more peaceful sleep than before, letting the lullaby of night life surround her.

Tomorrow, if I am strong enough, I will go home. Where I belong.

I can be strong enough. And I will find out if this is real.

(break)(break)

A/N:

The Titans' camping trip that she is thinking about is the one that took place in the Tales of the Teen Titans mini-series. Here, the Wolfman/Perez era Titans took a vacation to the Grand Canyon. Four of the Titans told their "backstories" by firelight over four separate nights. In order, the stories were told by: Cyborg, Raven, Garfield (then the Changeling), and Starfire. An excellent mini-series to read if you can find it.

The current Brother Blood is referred to by DeTroyes as "Junior". I thought that would be a good name to use here.