The Guard Changed at Dawn
Chapter 11
Dean clutched at the cushy armrests of his airplane seat. He hated flying, he hated flying, he hated flying. No one should be suspended in midair without any viable means of support. It was unnatural.
"Only two hours and nine minutes to go," Caleb said, his eyes on his laptop screen. He'd been reading up on metaphysical and paranormal abilities. Mac had always wanted him to become more familiar with the spectrum of paranormal skills, but growing up, Caleb had a hard time accepting his own abilities much less finding out about others. Then the Apocalypse, discovering an evil Trinity, and then their duties as the Triad had taken precedence. He hadn't thought about researching other abilities until now.
"It's only a three hour flight," Sam said soothingly.
"Shut. Up." Dean growled.
Sam covered a smile
JT, Max and James wisely refrained from saying anything, JT and James long used to their father's phobia regarding air travel.
"Anxiety while flying is a common dilemma," Joshua said, his decades-long interest in homeopathy rearing its head. "I make an anti-anxiety tea which is very calming."
Dean gritted his teeth and ground out, "I'm fine."
Sam distracted Joshua by reviewing the talismans for the boys, a subject he knew Dean would be keenly interested in. "So, making the talismans went well?"
"Very," Joshua said. "We were able to make them much stronger than I thought in the short time available. We'll still need permanent talismans, of course, however these will be more than adequate for this hunt. As a matter of fact, I would like to remake your talismans with these new techniques. They will have more layers of protection."
Sam leaned forward, curious. "What did you do different?"
Even Dean looked interested.
"Unfortunately, the coven would view my explaining as a violation of their privacy," Joshua said reluctantly. "They take their formulas and methods very seriously."
"Oh," Sam said, disappointed.
Dean merely rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat.
"I don't know either," Ryker said, "and I'm a member of the coven."
"You've chosen another path," Joshua said as though this wasn't the first time he'd needed to explain this to the younger man. "Some coven methods and practices will be open to you if you chose a more neutral one."
"You mean if he leaves the Brotherhood," Caleb stated, somewhat offended. "You'd think we weren't on the same side."
"There are many sides of the same side," Joshua replied enigmatically.
"That doesn't even make sense," Caleb grumbled. "And you're in the Brotherhood."
"I was brought into the coven while already a member," Joshua said.
"Still…"
"How far is White Swan from Yakima?" Sam interrupted.
"Thirty-five minutes," Caleb grumbled. "I've already made arrangements for three SUV rentals."
"I booked us into the only hotel in White Sawn," Sam said. "Takawáakusn Inn."
"What?" Dean frowned.
"Dark Horse Inn."
"Why didn't you just say that?"
"Because that's not the name, it's the translation of the name," Sam said with a smile.
Before Dean could vent his irritation, JT moved up the aisle and asked, "Anyone want something to drink?"
"I would like a bottled water," Joshua said with a smile. "Thank you, Johnathan."
Caleb raised a finger and said, "Soda, please, Johnny."
"No, thank you," Sam said, "and nothing for your dad. He's fine."
"So I can't talk for myself now?" Dean grumped.
"Not civilly," Joshua said under his breath.
JT managed to keep a straight face as he headed for the galley.
Caleb smiled, though his eyes remained on this computer screen. "Just under two hours and we'll be back on the ground."
On the Ground…
Walking out of Yakima Air Terminal, Dean stopped abruptly and looked around.
Sam halted beside his brother, his brows raised. "What?"
"You sure we're in Washington, land of lots of trees? I've been to Washington before. This looks like South Dakota."
"We're in Yakima," Caleb said, slinging his duffle onto his shoulder. "Eastern Washington. Western Washington is where most of the tall trees live. And there are trees over there," he pointed to a stand of clustered pines in the distance. "The car rental place is over here," he said, walking down the terminal walkway.
"Guess we're this way," Max said, and followed his uncle.
A half hour later the three SUVs were on the road headed to White Swan. The trip was short and uneventful, and they soon pulled up in front of the Takawáakusn Inn.
Caleb climbed out of his vehicle and immediately headed toward the front office to get them checked in. Ryker took off in the other direction to scout the rear of the building.
Dean exited his SUV and gave an interested and slightly distasteful look at the long, low building. Painted an unattractive brown, there was nothing at all to recommend the Inn; no chairs outside the doors, no plants, and no windows. The parking lot was barely paved, with thick tufts of weeds sticking through what looked to be much worn asphalt. It looked like a stable. Back in the day he and Sam had stayed in worse, but he found he wasn't all that thrilled about revisiting that roach-infested time.
"At least it's better than that place you took us years ago on the way to Grandpa's house," JT observed.
"You remember that?" Dean asked absently, his eyes going to the dense trees around the building and taking in the terrain. That trip to Bobby's had been years ago.
"Grandpa washed my clothes because he said they had flees."
Sam shouted out a laugh as Dean's head jerked in JT's direction. He loved his nephew's dry sense of humor.
Dean's eyes narrowed. "That's not true."
JT grinned. "No, it's not. But it could have been."
Ryker returned from his sojourn around the back of the building. "There's not much back there but scrub brush and a few trees. There's an abandoned railroad track about a half mile beyond, then a whole lot of nothing."
Dean nodded his thanks and checked out the structures across the street. A small, dingy diner that had seen better centuries sat with two lonely cars outside. Next to the diner was a dilapidated but functioning gas station, a barber shop and a small post office.
"Hub of commerce, isn't it?" Sam remarked quietly.
"I have a feeling we're just at the edge of White Swan," Joshua commented.
"Keep your strangers close, your population closer," Max intoned.
Caleb walked back with four sets of keys. "Okay, we're in the four rooms starting at the end, rooms nine through twelve." He took one key and handed it to JT; "You and Jimmy are in number eleven, Ryker and Max are in ten," he handed off their key. "Josh and I will take nine, and that leaves twelve for Deuce and the Runt."
Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname and took their key.
"Okay, get the lay of your rooms and dump your stuff. Josh, you and Jimmy are going to check in with Erik Olsen, Sheriff of White Swan, and maybe find out if there's somewhere else we can have dinner." Dean eyed the broken-down dive across the street. "Everyone else knows where they're going. We'll meet back here when we're finished. Let's get this done."
Dean and Caleb drove up to a house on the edge of a large and spacious meadow. Rimming the meadow in the distance was a dense, dark forest. Dean had been worried they were on the wrong track when they drove further and further into nowhere. Caleb, however, was sure they were headed toward the dream sender. The population thinned and houses became fewer till there were none but the house where they were parked. Dean looked around; there were no other homes for miles that he could see.
The house in front of them was a one level that had been raised up off the ground by heavy, round tree trunks that served as stilts. Large windows faced them, and Dean would assume there'd be large windows facing the back as well. This house was made for the view. There were several steps to climb to reach the massive double front doors.
"This it?" Dean asked, leaning forward in the driver's seat and eyeing the house.
Caleb closed his eyes and extended his abilities. "Yeah. I can sense the dreamer inside, and I remember that meadow from my dreams."
"Then let's go introduce ourselves."
Dean climbed from the SUV and lifted his jacket to fit his gun behind his back. Caleb followed suit and they climbed the stairs.
Once at the top, Caleb was just about to knock when he heard a female voice call out, "Come in…"
Dean gave Caleb a raised brow. It was unusual for a female to let men into their home without first checking at the door. Shrugging, he turned the large front knob and pushed open the door.
When they stepped inside, the small tiled foyer opened onto a large living room on their right. Furnished for comfort rather than fashion, it held a large couch, oversized chairs near a massive fireplace, a desk, and several bookcases filled with books. On their left was a short hallway leading to what Dean supposed were bedrooms, and they could see a kitchen off the hall.
Caleb cross the wide living room to the double, sliding glass doors and stared at the view beyond. "Impressive," he murmured.
"Yeah," Dean said, looking out onto the balcony."
The sliding glass doors opened onto a truly magnificent sight. Rolled out like a carpet a half mile wide was a flower-littered meadow. In the distance the meadow was fringed by a large forest, dense with Douglas fir and tall pines of many varieties; Ponderosa, Lodgepole, Western White and Whitebark. Caleb was entranced.
The balcony itself was magnificent; wide and large, it was an architectural marvel. Caleb appreciated its dimensions and construction. It was meant to be enjoyed, and enjoyed for long periods of time. The railing was made of sun-bleached, natural wood, weathered but sealed to prevent damage and rot. Several plants sat cluttered atop a large table on the left side of the doorway. Pots, a few pestles and mortars, cutting boards and knives wrestled for space against the plants on the tabletop. On the right side of the door sat an aged, cushioned double glider. Nearby stood a small table cluttered with mugs, a couple stacked plates with utensils and some napkins anchored against the afternoon breeze.
Directly ahead, a large canvas was perched atop a massive easel. Numerous tables were clustered near the canvas piled with paints, brushes, jars, additional mortars and pistols, knives, and what appeared to be jars of spices. Caleb thought it looked a lot like Joshua's crafting table.
Standing with her back to them stood a tall, slender woman with dark blond hair piled atop her head and held in place with a large clip. Caleb studied the figure. She wore faded, well-worn jeans and a rose, white and black plaid flannel shirt that was untucked and fluttered in the early afternoon breeze. She appeared to be staring unmoving at the canvas, and he could feel her concentration.
"They know you're here," she said, not turning around.
Caleb focused on the canvas, and suddenly felt an electric storm of psychic energy. Wincing slightly, he mumbled, "Ouch." His blocks weren't fully recovered from opening them up yet.
"Damian?" Dean said with a frown.
"I'm fine," Caleb said. He walked forward, his attention on the canvas. "What is it?"
Dean followed and gave a mental shrug: it was a painting, something he was very familiar with, given Caleb's skill with a brush. He didn't see the big deal.
"It's a trap," the woman said without turning around.
"A trap?" Caleb echoed.
Dean frowned. "How can a painting be a trap?"
Finally the woman lifted a hand to the clip in her hair and yanked. A flood of thick, bronze-blond hair fell down her back. She tossed the hair clip onto the table and turned.
Caleb blinked. She was beautiful in a timeless way, her face a study in contradictions.
She had the dusky, golden hued skin of a Native American Indian, as well as the classically cut, high cheekbones. A long, straight nose centered her face. Her mouth was wide and her lips rosy, a mouth made for laughing. Dark, winged eyebrows brought attention to her eyes. Yet instead of echoing her obvious Indian heritage, the eyes were a surprising sky blue. Long creases at the corners marked her as being older than she first appeared.
"I apologize." Moving toward them, she held out her hand. "I'm Onida Skogstad."
"Wow," Dean remarked. "That's a mouthful."
Caleb rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend in the side.
"Ow," Dean muttered, rubbing at his ribs.
Onida chuckled. "A conundrum, I know. Native American on my mother's side, Norwegian on my father's." She leaned in conspiratorially, "I wasn't very popular with either side of my family tree. Dad's family didn't understand how he could have married an Indian, and mom's was horrified she'd married outside the tribe."
"I'm Caleb Reeves, and this is Dean Winchester," Caleb said, shaking Onida's hand.
"Come," she said, moving past the pair toward the house. "I'll pour us some coffee and we'll talk."
Dean was just about to turn when something pushed out against the canvas, stretching the fabric. He thought it was a hand. "Shit," he yelped, and yanked his gun from behind his back and pointed it at the canvas.
"No!" Onida exclaimed, rushing to stand in front of the picture.
"Deuce!" Caleb shouted, pushing Dean's gun arm away from Onida.
"What?" Dean demanded. "You saying you didn't see that crap?"
Caleb gave the canvas a searching look.
Onida turned and stepped back a foot so she could get a better look. "See what?" Frowning, she moved closer again and touched the surface. Closing her eyes, she focused on the enclosure. There was a lot of activity. The witches were angry and desperate. But they'd been like that for months. Pulling her hand away, she looked at Dean. "What happened?"
"You're seriously telling me you didn't see that," Dean barked, giving the canvas a wide berth, though he hadn't put up his weapon. "It's possessed."
"The canvas isn't possessed," Caleb said, "I'd feel that, though there's a hell of a lot of psychic energy."
Dean looked at the other two, then back to the canvas. Again, the canvas pushed out as though a hand were reaching out for him. "Damn," he exclaimed, back pedaling even more. "That just isn't normal."
Onida looked confused. "I don't understand. What exactly are you seeing?"
Dean glanced at her, then back to the canvas. Slowly he tucked his gun behind his back. "It's like someone is right behind the picture, pushing at the canvas from the other side. The painting is bowing out like the canvas is elastic and someone's hand is pushing it."
Onida's mouth had fallen open in surprise at Dean's words. "You mean, the canvas itself is morphing?"
Caleb looked from Dean to the canvas. "What?"
"Morphing, moving, however you want to describe it," Dean said, "Creepiest thing I've ever seen."
"How are you seeing that?" Onida said, confused. She approached the canvas again, but like any other day from over the last four decades, the canvas was flat except for the kaleidoscope of colors.
Caleb moved closer to the canvas and stared. He also didn't see anything like what Dean described.
"Why don't we go inside. We can't talk out here," Onida said, backing a few steps away from the canvas before turning toward the balcony doors.
Dean didn't immediately follow. He just stared at the canvas, watching it pulse and stretch.
"Deuce," Caleb said, giving Dean's arm a pull.
Dean glanced at his friend, then gave the painting one last look before moving into the house.
Once inside, Dean followed Onida into the kitchen while Caleb stood inside the closed glass doors and watched the canvas. While he hadn't seen what Dean had, it was literally throbbing with psychic energy. Closing his eyes, he focused on the painting. Suddenly he heard the voices.
We'll give you everything you desire…
Set us free…
She can't be trusted…
We're not the enemy; watch your back, young one…
A hand touched his arm and Caleb jerked.
"You can hear them," Onida stated.
Caleb nodded. "You sent me the dream. How?"
"Come into the kitchen. It's protected, and I'll tell you everything."
Caleb winced slightly as the rantings of the witches increased.
Onida frowned. Lifting a hand, she held it up to Caleb's head and waited. When he nodded, she ran her fingers lightly over his forehead. "Your aura has been damaged." She tilted her head slightly. "Something happened recently."
"I was trying to find you and let down my blocks. Everything comes in and it's, well, painful."
Onida nodded sympathetically. "You were looking for me."
Caleb nodded. "I thought of a better way to find you, but only after I'd opened myself up a couple times." He smiled. "My brother Joshua is a Crafter. He's made some teas that help with the healing."
"You're used to … crafting? You mean magic?"
"Joshua doesn't approve of that name," Caleb smiled.
Onida laughed. "I suppose the title does bring up some unflattering connotations." Pointing to his head, she said, "I can heal that for you, if you want."
"You can? How?"
"Your abilities, your shields, they're energy, and I can use energy to heal energy. It's one of my gifts. I can heal that if you'll allow me. You're shields will be as good as new, titanium secure."
"Titanium," he repeated.
Onida nodded with a smile. "I tried getting a dream to you for over two years before you finally let me in."
Caleb's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Two years?"
"Two years, three months, and two days, I think. You're one tough Páshtinin."
"Páshtinin?"
"White man. Now, I'm getting an impatient energy from the kitchen. You want me to heal your shields now, or later?"
"How about later," Caleb said. "You deprive Deuce of coffee for too much longer, and you've got a lunatic on your hands."
"I'm not the one holding things up," Dean remarked from his position leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, watching the interaction between the other two.
"Then we'll delay you no longer," Onida said, leading the way for Caleb to the kitchen.
Once the three were sitting at the table with mugs of hot coffee, Onida began.
"This is going to sound incredible, but in the forest there are…"
"Witches," Dean interjected.
"Specifically, theTah-tah-kle'-ah," Caleb added with a smile.
"They come in packs of five, live in caves, and are a lot like superman," Dean finished.
"Superman?" Onida looked at Dean, confused.
"They can move really fast and can fly … maybe."
Onida looked flummoxed.
"We do our homework," Dean smirked.
"We've been researching your hunt for the last few days," Caleb said. "The only thing we needed to know was where you were, and when we found that, we came."
"My … hunt," Onida echoed.
"That's what we call going after something like this," Caleb explained.
Suddenly Onida smiled. "You work with the supernatural." She couldn't believe her good fortune. No convincing was necessary; these men already believed. That made her life so much easier. "Who are you?"
"The Brotherhood," Dean said simply. "We fight all sorts of things the world doesn't want to know about."
"So, tell us more about these witches," Caleb said. "From our research, they're very old, strong and dangerous."
"Besides tall, huge and probably ugly," Dean interjected.
"How are you keeping them contained?" Caleb asked.
Onida shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts. Surprises all around today. Blowing out a steadying breath, she said, "As far back as the spoken word, the Yakima people have been keepers of the Tah-tah-kle'-ah. The Owl Witches have tormented my people, stolen our children, and been a terror to the surrounding towns and peoples. For centuries, a Yaotlapialistli has protected our people. Yaotlapialistli means one who guards against evil. For decades, every thirty or forty years a Yaotlapialistli is born. That person has special abilities that enable them to contain the witches. Unfortunately, I'm the last guardian."
Dean and Caleb's eyes met when she'd said guardian.
"No one with my abilities has been born on the reservation for decades. About five years ago I realized the Tah-tah-kle'-ah would need to be killed, though I hadn't the faintest idea how to accomplish that. If we had the method to kill them, we would have done that decades ago, and so many of our warriors wouldn't have died. I did some research on my own, but couldn't find a way to kill them and maintain the entrapment by myself. I was desperate, and decided to see if someone out there could help; if there was knowledge out there that could help. That's when I found you," she nodded in Caleb's direction.
"You said the canvas was a trap," Dean said. "What do you mean? How can a painting be a trap?"
"It's a metaphysical trap," Caleb guessed.
Onida nodded. "Enhanced by medicine bags with special herbs and bound with energy created by medicine men and our Yaotlapialistli decades ago. They are placed in strategic spots around the forest, enclosing the witches and keeping others from entering their territory unless lured there."
"With their language mimicking abilities," Caleb said.
Onida nodded, impressed with the depth of these strangers' knowledge. "They lure people in, more often children. Children have an innocence the witches love. For example, if you heard some strange voice calling you from a darkened forest, you'd probably run away." She saw the smirk on both of the men's faces and admitted humorously, "Okay, maybe not you, but most adults would. However, if that voice was soothing and gentle enough, children would walk right in. Our medicine bags help offer deterrents with negative energies, but they're not always successful."
"So how do the measures you use in the forest connect to the picture?" Caleb asked.
"The ingredients in the pouches has been ground together to form a paste. That paste is spread throughout the canvas so whatever happens to the canvas, happens in the forest. I control the canvas, and the witches can't get out. If I make a mistake, if they work loose one of the pouches in the forest and I don't catch it here, they escape."
Rising, Onida opened a cabinet and pulled out some bread. She grabbed a jar and placed them both on the table. "This is called Fry Bread." She picked up one of the squarish fried pieces of bread and pulled it apart. "You break it in half and dip one side in the berry mixture." She scooped up some of a thick, reddish jam and placed the entire mixture into her mouth. With a smile, she gestured for the other two to follow suit.
Caleb immediately picked up a piece, broke it and scooped up some jam. The taste of the berries exploded on his tongue, a mixture of tart and sweet. Swallowing, he asked, "What is this? Tastes sharp."
"It's raspberries and huckleberries."
Dean swallowed a large mouthful and nodded. "Great. Do you have a map of the containment area in the forest, where the medicine pouches are?"
"Yes," Onida said. Rising, she walked out of the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a large sheet of paper. "The bags are circled on the map," she said, pointing.
"What about the caves where the witches live?" Caleb asked.
"I don't know for sure." Onida pulled the map towards her and pointed to a low ridge. "But I believe they're located here, along this ridge. It's the only logical place. There are two covens of five. Two different covens don't share the same living quarters."
Dean studied the map, his eyes going from the circles where the pouches were to the cave ridge. "So," he said, "you don't have any idea about how to kill these witches."
Onida shook her head. "No. They're creatures of energy…"
"And witches," Dean remarked. "Yeah. Not much can take them out, as they'll heal from most human methods of warfare; guns, knives, swords, holy water. We figured cutting off their heads."
Onida blinked. "Uh, yeah, okay. How do you plan on doing that?"
"By going into the woods and killing them," Dean answering brusquely.
"You can't go in there," Onida said.
"Why not?"
"They'll kill you. These witches are huge."
"They're taller than human normal, probably stronger. They can move faster than the eye can see and might be able to fly," Dean stated. "We got it."
Onida suddenly felt angry. She had protected her people for decades. The witches killed her husband, her baby, and she had almost died at their hands. And now these men were going to just casually walk in and take them on. It was insulting. "You don't understand," she stated emphatically. "These creatures have menaced my people for centuries. Warriors have died. They're not just some creature you can take out on a whim."
"We're not going about this flippantly," Caleb said. "Let me tell you about who we are; about The Brotherhood. We're a group of men and women who've been around in some form or other since the days of Merlin."
Onida laughed. "Merlin; THE Merlin."
"That's the one," Dean said.
"He's a legend," Onida objected, "a fantasy."
"We thought so too, but we're here," Caleb said. "Merlin gave three men gifts so they could lead the fighters; heart, a sword and the eye to see beyond this realm."
"That's you," Onida said.
Caleb smiled and shook his head. "No, that's the Scholar."
"My brother, Sam," Dean said.
"But your psychic abilities are powerful."
"I got my abilities from a demon through my great grandfather," Caleb said softly.
Onida goggled. "You're serious." She shook her head. Then she remembered the other presence when Caleb had recently been in the cage. "He's the one, when you were here before. He's the one who pushed the witches away from you; this Scholar."
Caleb nodded. "He's pretty powerful too. Together, the Brotherhood fights all kinds of things from werewolves to wendigoes, rawheads, black dogs, wraiths, banshees, shapeshifters, skinwalkers, vampires, witches; well, the list goes on and on."
"So I'm not being flippant when I say we got it," Dean said. "We may get bloody and beat up, but we usually come out on top." He watched Onida absorb what he was saying. "We brought people to help, people with skills. We're not going into this foolishly, but we are going in."
"Okay," Onida said slowly, "then you need to understand the bigger picture. These witches are not completely … solid. They're part physical and part non-corporeal. They exist in a metaphysical state. That's why the entrapment is part physical by way of the medicine bags, and part metaphysical by way of the canvas."
"And you?" Caleb said.
"I monitor the canvas. I specialize in energy medicine and metaphysics. I can manipulate energies, auras, and pull aura energies from my body." She held out her hand, and a swirling ball of color appeared.
"Wow," Dean remarked, leaning closer. "Cool."
Caleb smiled and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, cool." Leaning forward too, he reached out a finger and touched the light. Colors and swirls of energy exploded in his head. "Whoa," he drawled.
"Hey, you okay man?" Dean said, leaning over and shoving Caleb's hand back on the table. "You know about the no-touching-supernatural-stuff-without-a-manual rule."
"That's how you can heal," Caleb said, his eyes on Onida.
"Yes. Healing is cell regeneration and energy. I can manipulate those and speed healing."
"So how does that work on the canvas?" Caleb asked, intrigued.
"Since the canvas is energy, I can manipulate the energies of the canvas, myself and the witches to keep the containment in place."
"I'd like to see that," Caleb stated.
"My watch starts at sundown. Stick around and you'll see."
Dean's eyes went from Caleb to Onida and back again. His lips quirked slightly as he stood. "Then you're staying and I'm going to meet up with the others. We've got a few hours down time, then you can catch up with us at dinner for the briefing." Picking up the map, he began to roll it up. "Is there some place to eat that's not across the street from the Dark Horse Inn?"
Onida smiled. "There's a little diner on the other side of town. It's called Gode Spiser and is run by Mr. Nesset."
"Go…de…" Dean frowned.
"Gode Spiser," Onida said, picking up a pencil and writing it on the back of the map. "It means Good Eats in Norwegian."
Dean grunted and headed for the door, though Caleb could hear him say, "Whatever happened to the Greasy Spoon, or Downtown Diner."
The door slammed shut and soon Caleb heard the SUV's engine fire up.
Onida turned to Caleb and said, "How about I heal that psychic wound?"
Caleb snorted humorously. "That's what my brother Josh called it." Nodding, he said, "Okay. Do I need to do anything?"
"Your blocks are strong, so you'll have to allow me access. But other than that, just sit back and let me do my thing," she said with a smile.
Caleb sat back in his chair, nervous. The only people he'd ever let down his blocks for were Joshua, Elijah and Mac. A sudden rush of pain went through him at the thought of Mac. Mac; his savior, his mentor, his father, and then his friend. He missed him with an intensity he'd felt only once before; when Dean had died. Sometimes, like now, the pain pulled him under like a tide.
"Take a deep breath," Onida murmured. "Let the pain wash over and through you like a wave on the beach."
Caleb took a deep breath, and a wash of blue went through his mind, soothing and calm.
"That's it," Onida murmured. "In and out, let the color take the pain away with it." After a couple more minutes, she said, "Now, let your blocks slid down with the wave of blue, easy, slowly, painlessly."
Caleb slowly lowered his blocks and luminous light filled his mind, and he jumped slightly. He was afraid he'd feel the pains and thoughts of the world and it would overwhelm him again. But this time, the light pushed the voices away.
"Just relax," Onida said quietly. "Let the energy fill your mind, soothing, healing, rebuilding."
The light was Onida, touching his psychic walls with a thread of glistening gold. He'd never felt anything like it. When Elijah dampened pain nerves, he'd felt very little. This was like an awakening. Then almost as soon as the feather light touch ran over his blocks, the golden thread retreated and the light began to fade.
Caleb opened his eyes. "That was amazing. There's no more pain."
Onida smiled. "I'm glad." Her expression sorrowed as she asked, "Who was Mac?"
Caleb's smile faded.
"I'm sorry," Onida said quickly. "That was intrusive and none of my business. I usually don't snoop, but his presence was so powerful in your mind, I couldn't help hearing his name. I apologize."
Caleb nodded. He couldn't sit while talking about this, so he stood and paced the small kitchen. "My parents died when I was six and I went to live with my grandmother. She wasn't my mom and dad, but she was family. Then, she died…" Caleb glanced at Onida over his shoulder and said, "I saw it happen."
Onida's eyes went wide.
"Not with my eyes," Caleb clarified.
"You had a vision."
Caleb nodded. "I thought I'd made it happen somehow, that I was responsible. My grandmother's best friend was Bird Isbell. My grandmother had named her my guardian, so the courts put me with her. But I couldn't stay there, not with her. What if I killed her too? So I ran away. When I ran too many times, Child Protective Services took me away and put me in a foster home. Then they were murdered too."
"You had another vision," Onida supplied.
"Yeah. This time I was convinced I'd killed them; the police thought I was guilty too. I wanted to die. I couldn't bear to kill anyone else. I nearly killed myself with a police revolver and they put me in a mental institution."
Onida gasped. "How old were you?"
"Thirteen," Caleb said. "I would have died in that place if it wasn't for Mac. He came and another man, Pastor Jim. Pastor Jim was the leader of the Brotherhood back then. He heard about me from another psychic named Missouri. They came, they explained about my abilities, told me there were others like me, and told me the deaths weren't my fault. Mac came…" Caleb swallowed the huge lump suddenly lodged in his throat. "Mac came, and he didn't go away like everyone else. He came, read to me in the institution, and took me into his home. Then, wonder of wonders, he adopted me as his son." Caleb gave Onida a small smile. "He gave me a home, he gave me a family, he gave me everything I'd ever wanted."
"He introduced you to this Brotherhood," Onida said.
Caleb nodded. "And I found the brother who died with my parents in Dean."
Onida frowned. "I thought you said Joshua was your brother."
Caleb laughed as he sat back down at the table. "My family is complicated. What about you? You have family?"
"My parents died about fifteen years ago," Onida started. "I didn't have any brothers or sisters." She hesitated, and then she felt a light touch of his mind in hers. Instead of blinding the touch with light, she simply sat there and let this man in. She couldn't understand why she did it, but she did. His touch was gentle and soothing. And then he spoke inside her head, she discovered he could hear her when she spoke back.
I'm sorry.
It was a long time ago.
You still miss him…
Always
Caleb pulled his mind away from Onida's before he was tempted to delve deeper. With this woman, he would rather find out about the old fashioned way. "How long ago?" he asked softly.
"Forty years."
Caleb's eyes widened in surprise. "Forty… What were you, twelve?"
Onida laughed. "No. I was twenty-four when we were married. I'd known him practically all my life. We had three and a half glorious months before he died." She gave Caleb a sad smile before she straightened and said, "What about you? Any Mrs. Psychic at home?"
"No, I've never been married, never had a real long term relationship. I couldn't take the risk of passing on my genetics to any child. I wouldn't endanger them in that way, and I'd never deprive any woman the gift of a child."
Onida stared at Caleb for a long time before she blinked and broke the connection. Slowly she rose and lifted her shirt.
Caleb stared at four long, deep scars running from her rib line and slashing down to her hip bone. Claw marks. His eyes darted to hers. The wounds must have been very deep, considering the depth of the scar tissue. How had she survived?
"Aside from age, you don't have to worry about my having children," Onida said softly. Dropping her shirt, she walked out of the kitchen.
Caleb remained at the table, staring after Onida. Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, he pushed himself to his feet and mumbled, "Okay, that happened," and left the kitchen to find out where she'd gone.
Dean stared at the menu and wrinkled his nose. "I thought she said this place was good."
The seven men were sitting around a long table in a small room off the main dining space of Gode Spiser, Joshua having had the forethought to ask for a place with some seclusion, telling the curious hostess that they would be talking business.
"How do you know it's not?" Sam asked.
"I can't even pronounce most of this stuff," Dean grumbled. "I want a burger."
"Me too," James said, his eyes roving over the plastic covered menu. "I don't see it here."
"What's a Kjøtt…kaker?"JT asked.
"Meatcakes," said a male voice.
Everyone looked up to see a fair-skinned man with white hair standing near their table. He smiled. "Hello, gentlemen, and welcome to Gode Spiser," he said with a lilting accent. "I'm Gunner Nesset and I own this restaurant. It's wonderful to have some new customers."
Joshua smiled and shook the man's hand. "Thank you. We're excited to try some Norwegian dishes."
"My hostess Samantha said you were here on business," Mr. Nesset questioned, his curiosity obvious.
"We're mainly traveling through White Swan," Joshua explained. "We're looking into networking with logging companies in the area to plant trees in logged areas, keep the forests healthy."
"C Wyss & Son is the main logging company in this area," Mr. Nesset said helpfully, "and the Yakama tribe does some logging and replanting as well."
"If we decide this is fertile ground for our project, we'll look into working with C Wyss and the tribe." Holding up the menu, Joshua said, "Can you explain the menu for those who need some interpretation?" He eyed Dean, who returned the look with a nasty one of his own.
"Of course," Mr. Nesset said. "We have two different types of cuisine; Norwegian and Native American. Some of our most popular Norwegian dishes are the Kjøttkaker, which are large cakes of ground beef seasoned with onion salt and pepper. It comes with potatoes, stewed pears or cabbage and carrots on the side. Two additional favorites are Fårikål, which is mutton stew and comes with a side salad and potatoes, and Svinestek, which is roast pork served with gravy, vegetables and potatoes. On the Native American side, we serve Pemmecan, which is lean meats mixed with dried fruit, fat, honey and nuts. It's served with honeyed beans and cornbread. The Pine Nut Catfish is also excellent, and served with greens and a side of whipped potatoes, and lastly, Succotash, which is dried lima beans, fresh corn, pearl onions, bacon fat and ham hock also served with cornbread."
Dean was looking like he would still ask for a hamburger when Sam cut in, "How about you take the Kjøttkaker." Looking at Dean, he said, "That's like a burger without the bun."
"And I'll bring a basket of bread," said Mr. Nesset.
"Okay," Dean sighed, his dreams of a thick, juicy burger going down the tubes.
"I'll have that too," James said.
"I'll have the one that's stew," JT added, not even bothering to try and sound out the name.
"Sounds good," Ryker nodded.
Max went with Sam and chose the Pemmican, while Joshua ordered the Pine Nut Catfish.
Mr. Nesset left, and a minute later a waitress returned with a basket of bread. She eyed Max and giggled before moving away.
Dean watched her go and sighed. "I wanted a beer."
"I was hoping for a glass of water," Joshua said. "Looks like we'll have to wait."
"Should we wait for Uncle Caleb?" Max asked, his eyes going to the door to diner door.
"We'll get started," Dean said. "He should be here soon."
"How did meeting with the dream sender go?" Sam asked.
"Really good, for Caleb, at least," Dean said with a smile.
Sam gave his brother a puzzled look. "What?"
Shaking his head, Dean took a piece of bread from the basket and put it on his napkin, as the giggling waitress hadn't brought them bread plates either. He told the group about Onida Skogstad and that she was the one who kept the witches contained in a metaphysical prison. He told about the medicine bags in the forest and the corresponding trap in the canvas.
"Sounds a lot like Samuel Colt's Devil's Trap in Nevada," Sam said.
"I thought of that too," Dean said. "The canvas adds something new."
"Fascinating," Joshua said. "So there are medicine bags placed in strategic spots in the forest, and also woven into the fabric of the canvas. I would like to hear more about this method of entrapment and to see the canvas."
"You'll have to get in line," Dean remarked. "Onida monitors the canvas, making sure the witches don't escape. Looks like these witches might be semi-solid."
Joshua frowned. "You mean their equally corporeal and non-corporeal?"
"Yeah, Josh, they're both," Dean sighed. "I think semi-solid covered that."
"Just clarifying for those with higher vocabulary levels," Joshua remarked loftily.
"You mean simple words make it difficult for you to understand people?" Dean sniped. "Must make talking to us normal folks a challenge. How did you cope when you were a Public Relations guru?"
James watched the exchange with interest, while JT, Max and Ryker merely sat back and waited for the tension to dissipate. They'd been on enough hunts to know that being tired and hungry made tempers short.
"Okay," Sam interjected before the conversion could devolve more. "Will cutting off their heads still work as a means of killing them?"
Dean sighed. It had been a long day, and he was tired. Giving Joshua a nod, he continued, "They have to be solid to attack people, otherwise their punches would go right through. So taking off their heads during a fight should work."
"Agreed," Joshua said, giving Dean his own apology.
Just then Mr. Nesset returned with two waitresses and placed several plates of food on the table. Looking around the table, seeing Dean's bread on a napkin, the diner owner frowned. "Where are your drinks and your bread plates?"
"I don't believe our waitress has gotten around to that yet," Joshua said diplomatically.
"Molly," Mr. Nesset exclaimed. "See to their beverages immediately." The man himself walked away and returned with seven bread plates and put them on the table.
The giggling waitress now known as Molly looked contrite. After taking their drink orders, she returned quickly with seven waters, five beers and one milk for Ryker, who didn't drink very often.
Dean eyed the large meatball. After a moment he picked up a bread roll and tore it in half. He then sliced the meatball into three pieces, picked up the center piece and put it in between the bread roll halves. Smiling, he took a bite. Well, it wasn't a burger, but it was as close as he was going to get tonight.
James had been watching his father, and did the same with his Kjøttkaker.
Sam waited until Molly, who'd been dawdling around the table, returned to her serving station before continuing their conversation. "I agree the witches would need to be solid to do battle, but their quick movements and the flying could be attributed to their moving in a semi-corporeal state."
"Exactly," Joshua said, cutting a bite of his catfish and tasting the Native American fare. After chewing a couple times, he nodded his satisfaction. "Rather like angels wink in and out of sight."
JT dipped a spoon into his bowl and sampled the mutton soup. Deciding the meal was edible, he smiled and dug in for more.
Meanwhile, Max eyed the brownish lump on his plate. As a restaurateur, he took great care in arranging a plate to be inviting in looks as well as taste. This presentation left a lot to be desired. Eventually he threw caution to the wind and took a bite. The taste was unconventional, but he found he liked the blend of dried fruit and meat. Maybe he would do more research and put Pemmecan on the menu at Sawyers. "Are we going to be able to see the witches when they're moving?" he asked, focusing his mind back on the hunt.
"We may be able to see a blur of movement," Sam said, "But to be on the safe side, we should plan for no."
"I think we'll need to rely on Caleb and Sam's psychic abilities," Dean said. "Caleb could sense the witches in the canvas. That means they're trackable. There's also a good chance Jimmy can see them." Looking at his son, he said, "Since you see ghosts, I'm hoping you'll be able to see these witches too."
James looked up from his Kjøttkaker. "But you can see ghosts too. I don't know whether my abilities will help here."
"There are many types of ghosts we can't see," Sam said. "Your skills may give you an edge we don't have."
"Maybe," James conceded.
"So there are two covens," JT said. "And Ms. Skogstad said that the covens lived separately. If there are only five in a coven, do you think those five are linked somehow, maybe psychically?"
"An interesting question," Joshua said. "Covens bind themselves to one another by a mark."
Dean focused on his meal. He'd been responsible for Joshua having to take his coven's mark. An important coven leader, Agatha Hennings, had used Caleb to regain her youth, putting his life in danger. Nadine, the interim coven head, manipulated the circumstances in order to bring Joshua into the coven. While Caleb was saved and Joshua had become a valued member through the years, Dean always felt bad he'd placed their Advisor in that position.
Joshua continued. "It's possible that since these witches exist in a metaphysical state, they're tied to their coven mates and can't abide members of other covens in their immediate territory."
"If they're tied to their coven, will that make them harder to kill?" Ryker asked.
"I wouldn't think so," Joshua said, frowning. "Though if one of their members died, the rest would most likely feel it and react violently."
"Whether they're connected or not is a question for Onida," said Sam. "What about their home base? Do we know where the caves are located?"
Dean shook his head. "When we finish dinner, we'll head back to the hotel and look at the map. Onida didn't know exactly where they were, but she thought they were along a ridge near Mount Adams."
"Do we know anything about the caves?" Max asked. "Will we be able to enter above ground, or are the entrances underground?"
"Other than caves," Dean said, "we don't know much."
"Most witches have a connection with nature," JT said. "Since these covens have been around for centuries, they may have a connection to the earth through the cave structure. Destroying the caves might weaken them, make them more vulnerable."
"Fire is a purifier," Ryker said. "Using a combination of C4, salt and purification herbs should destroy the caves and the witches' connection to them."
Joshua shook his head. "We may not be able to destroy the caves. If the trap binds the witches to the caves as well as the forest, destroying the caves could set them free."
"So, we've got questions," Max stated.
Ryker said, "We need to find out if the witches are psychically connected, whether they have any kind of power over nature, and if they're connected to their caves."
"That about sums it up," James said.
"We definitely need a few more answers before we take them on," Sam stated. "We'll talk with Onida again before we go in."
Dean nodded. "We can make adjustments after we get more Intel. As of now, the plan is to enter the forest in pairs; one psychic and one not: Sam and Max, JT and Caleb, Jimmy with me. That way each pairing has someone with the ability to hopefully spot the witches before they get too close."
"Twenty feet between pairs," Sam confirmed.
Dean nodded. "I don't want any one team out of sight of another."
"And me?" Ryker asked.
"We're going with JT's spotter action plan." Dean gave his son a nod. "You're the best long distance shot in the group. I want you on the ridge with Joshua and a radio. Both of you will be armed with long distance rifles."
"Good thing the Ames jet allowed us to carry on weapons," Max grinned.
Dean nodded his agreement. Since he couldn't bring the Impala, being able to carry their weapons onto the flight was easier than trying to arm on the ground. "These witches need to be solid to fight," he continued. "If you guys can cripple them before they attack, we'll have a better chance of taking off their heads. Joshua, can you do your thing and give the bullets more of a kick?"
Joshua nodded. "I can combine some lethal poisons with salt. It won't kill them, but it will slow them down."
"Will Uncle Caleb be there?" James asked suddenly.
Dean was surprised at the question. "Yeah, of course, and he'll be here soon."
JT, Max and James focused on the remains of their meals. It was unheard of for Caleb to not be at the planning stages of a hunt. As the Knight of the Brotherhood, it was his duty to be present for all strategic meetings. Ryker was a little more open minded about Caleb's lack of appearance, as he hadn't grown up training with the Knight. But the others weren't happy with his absence.
"He was interested in seeing how the canvas worked," Dean explained. "Hopefully that will help in taking down the witches. You know what Caleb always says…"
"Knowledge is everything," Max murmured.
Sam finished off his beer and pushed away from the table. "You guys ready to get some sleep?"
"If we don't get eaten by bugs," JT said, trying to lighten mood.
"You bring the insecticide?" Max asked his best friend.
James laughed. "Boy Scout keeps a can in his duffle."
Dean clapped a hand on JT's shoulder. "Nice."
"I may need to use it," Joshua said.
The group complimented Mr. Nesset on his cuisine and promised to come back if they remained in town. Dean paid for the meal at the small register.
Once outside, Joshua, Ryker and Max walked toward one of the SUVs, JT and James headed for Sam's. Dean went to the vehicle he'd shared with Caleb. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he saw no messages from his Knight. Frowning, he climbed into the SUV, wrote a few lines of test, and hit send.
This is a hunt, not a date. Get your ass in the game.
TBC