'If a wendigo hasn't killed, the curse isn't complete. The sins can be forgiven and her soul can still be saved.'
'Sin? Soul? Paleface, you're not talking sense. I don't walk the Jesus road. Found out real early that stuff don't mean drek on the streets. Last time I turned my cheek, I had to get it replaced.' Ghost shook his head. 'Wendigos eat people. You're talking real bad biz.'
The Indian's reaction was no more than Sam could reasonably expect. 'But we're bringing her here to cure her,' he said.
'Now you're talking crazy. Can't be done. Anybody could turn back even an ork, the docs and whitecoats woulda been all over them in millisecs, right after the media hounds. Whole world would know how to do it. Ain't no pills, surgery, or drugs can do it.' 'We've got a way. We're going to use magic.' Ghost spat.
'I know you don't like magic. I'm not asking you to take part in the ritual. We just need somebody to hide her safely until we can do the magic. She's my sister, Ghost. IVe got to try. I thought you'd understand.' Sam was losing track of the argument as his emotions caught up with him. 'We can't bring her into the plex; there are too many people. But she's got to be present for the ritual. There's no other way to do it. I didn't know who else to ask.'
'The odds get too bad, a smart man doesn't gamble.' Ghost started to walk away.
'I really thought you might help,' Sam muttered, almost to himself. 'She's Wolf totem.'
Ghost turned. 'You're desperate crazy, white man, but you've got cojones. I might be a little crazy, too.
You know, Grandfather Wolf don't like cowards, and he really hates people who run out on the pack.'
'You weren't running out. I'm not part of your tribe. Neither is Janice. And I know you're anything but a coward.'
'Not you I'm worried about, paleface.' Ghost lowered his voice. 'You aren't scamming? She really is Wolf. You swear as a shaman?'
Sam nodded.
'Fraggin5 drek, but you don't make it easy,' Ghost said, head tilted toward the sky. 'You know, paleface, Grandfather Wolf don't like murderers or cannibals either. So maybe there's hope for her. Maybe you really can do something for her. How much nuyen did you say?'
'I didn't, but it's not much. Fifty K. And favors. I'll owe you big, Ghost.'
'Don't worry, paleface,' the Indian said, rubbing his chin reflectively. 'If this thing blows up in our faces, it'll be more than you can pay.''
Janice astrally scouted the area around the aircraft. As promised, she found only three people waiting for her. One she recognized instantly as Sam. Next to him stood an elven woman who seemed vaguely familiar. The third member of the welcoming committee was some kind of razorguy, his aura darkened in places by cyber- enhancements.
Had she really expected a trap? Sam was too honest to betray her. At least the Sam she had grown up with was honest. But that Sam wasn't a street shaman and a shadowrunner. He had changed, but how much?
From her own experiences, she knew some changes were bigger than others.
She returned to her body and rose from the travel couch. The chair had been tight, not made for someone of her bulk. Her muscles relaxed gratefully. The vanishing aches and pains reminded her how little she belonged in the world of the norms. She thought about tearing the door from its hinges to express her frustration and anger. It would make a flashy entrance, but it wouldn't really reduce the stress left from the trip. She opened the hatch as meekly as any ordinary passenger.
With the first whiff of the local air, she felt better. The Salish-Shidhe breeze was full of the good scents of a forest much more pleasant than the sterile, machine-purified air of the aircraft.
Sam and the woman stepped forward to greet her, but the razorguy hung back, watchful. When Janice saw the elf with her mundane eyes, she knew why the woman's aura had seemed familiar. This was the same elf who had helped Sam kill Dan Shiroi. Janice didn't give Sam a chance to even say hello. 'Still hanging with the same armful, I see. You two serious, or are you just rubbing my muzzle in it?'
Sam stopped, open-mouthed. The elf answered for him.
'My name is Hart, Janice. No one here means to offend you.'
'I know who you are. And you call me Shiroi, elf.' 'That was the wendigo's name,' Hart said. Janice showed her teeth. 'I'm a wendigo.' The elf shut up. She looked offended and maybe a bit nervous. Good. Janice hoped she made the elf real nervous.
'So, Mr. Big Time Shaman, where's your ritual team? Are they lost, or are you? This don't look like a volcano.'
Sam looked annoyed. That pleased her. Why should this be easy on anyone?
'We're not doing the ritual tonight,' he said. 'Drek!' Didn't he understand what he was doing by hauling her down here? She had hoped that if she humored him, he'd be satisfied and leave her alone. She had thought she could hold out for a day or two, long enough for him to see the foolishness of his plan and for her to get back to the fastness before the hunger became overpowering. 'Why not?'
'I didn't want to take the chance that something would go wrong slipping you into Council lands. The ritual would be ruined if some Council trackers stumbled into the middle of it. Besides, the moon will be full two nights from now, and the magic will be more potent if the ritual is performed then. It'll also give you some time to learn your part.''
How many more little surprises was he going to spring? 'You didn't say I had to do anything.'
'Transformation magic is more powerful if the subject is willing and involved.'
She heard herself growl and realized that no longer was her annoyance feigned. 'Do I have to believe it will work?'
'No. But it would help.'
She sat down on the loam. This wasn't working out as she had thought. But then, when had anything ever gone right? When Dan was taking care of her, was when. That had been the only time she had been really happy since before her parents had died. Everything in between had been hollow, almost as hollow as her life now.
From the corner of her eye she could see Sam fretting, probably trying to decide how long to let her stew. After a few minutes, Hart poked him in the ribs. They exchanged a glance, and he nodded and addressed her.
'Janice, I realize that it wasn't easy for you to come.
The trip must have been uncomfortable, but the plane was the best we could manage. You're tired.' He placed a satchel by her side. 'When you're rested, take a look at the chips in the reader. They'll explain some of the fine points of the ritual. Your part is highlighted. It's not big, but it's important. I'd go over it with you now, but there are still a few more things to be taken care of in the plex. We've got to get back there.'
The plex? She never wanted to see another metro-plex. They were dirty and smelly, but most of all they were crowded with people. All those stinking, noisy people. All that meat. No, she remonstrated with herself. That's not the way to think. 'You said no cities,' she snapped.
'Sorry,' he said quickly. 'I meant Hart and me. You'll stay here with Ghost, and he'll take you to the rendezvous point on the lower slopes of Mount Rainier. We'll meet again in two days just after sundown. Okay?'
What choice did she have? 'You didn't leave room in your plan for me to object.' 'I'll take that as a yes.'
Sam reached out to touch her. He was hesitant, as though undecided whether to stroke her like a furry pet, pat her like a little sister, or just lay a reassuring hand on her. In the end, he tried a little of all three. Most likely he meant to be affectionate, but he rumpled her fur the wrong way.. Worse, she felt the trembling of his hand and saw the fear in his eyes. He showed some courage, at least. His woman didn't dare come near enough to touch. X3od, who was he to call himself family, then act like all the other hateful norms?
She didn't watch them climb into the aircraft, but then she looked up in time to see them appear in the cockpit. Sam settled into the pilot's couch. As he went through the motions the aircraft engines revved, twirling the props faster and faster until the low-slung body lifted from the field. Then the plane cleared the trees, the nacelles rotating to bring the props down for horizontal flight. The craft disappeared into the night, its sound fading as it drew further away. When had Sam learned to fly? Their departure left her alone with the razorguy Sam had called Ghost. He was staring at her while she observed him covertly. To judge from his looks and his dress, he was an Indian. It didn't surprise her that he seemed reluctant to give up his place near the trees. For generations out of
