Unnatural Mayhem — Excerpt
Chapter One
“Only by going alone in silence, without baggage,
can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness.”
—John Muir
Thursday, 9 a.m.
If the rumors were true, this trip might get bloody.
On the long drive north, Mayhem’s faithful crow companion, Poe, perched on his thigh, his gaze transfixed out the passenger window. Sulking would not benefit him this time. Jacy Lee asked for help with his granddaughter, Shawnee, and Mayhem could never refuse such a simple request. The trip would work two-fold. Not only could he aid a dear family friend, but he’d heard whispers about a particularly nasty hunt.
The White Mountain region of New Hampshire blossomed with color. Deep purple lupines speckled open fields, wildflowers bursting with burnt orange, gold, and vibrant reds—an ideal spot to teach a feisty feline important life lessons. The one obstacle was Poe. Almost three hours scrolled by without a single note from him. After his mother’s final departure eleven months ago, he hadn’t shown the least bit of enthusiasm for much of anything. In truth, he and Poe both carried scars from that fateful night, tearing him up in ways he never thought possible.
In front of the log cabin in Jackson, rich cedar and pine wafted through the vents, the ruralness of the area conjuring fond memories of his and Kimi’s weekend trips. After sliding the shifter into Park, he stroked Poe’s sleek, feathered back. “We’re here, buddy.”
Sloughing off Dad’s loving touch, Poe soldiered to the passenger seat, lowered his bill to his chest feathers, and peered up at him, dark eyes full of sorrow and pain.
“I understand your malaise. I truly do.” The last time he and Poe came here, they bid farewell to the purest soul on earth, Mayhem’s beloved, his reason for waking each morn. “Sometimes in life, however, we need to swallow our emotions and forge ahead. I thought you’d be happy about this trip.”
Poe cocked his head, as if to say, “Seriously?”
Food rewards worked wonders for motivation. Thus, Mayhem reached into the pocket of his leather blazer and withdrew a Ziploc baggie of seedless black cherries, one of Poe’s favorite treats. “Would you like one before we head inside?”
From two fingers he dangled a cherry by the stem, and Poe inched closer, his gaze volleying between Dad and the fruity bribe. Stupid, he was not. Poe also understood the implications of accepting. If he indulged, the petulant behavior would need to cease. Black cherries, however, were almost impossible to resist. Leaning forward, he gobbled the bribe of its stem.
“Care for another?”
This time, Poe did not hesitate, fruit juices dripping out the edges of his bill.
“My good boy.” His voice crooned, fingertips dancing across Poe’s feathery crown. “They’re really quite succulent. Wouldn’t you agree?” When he offered another, a third cherry disappeared down his gullet. “Please preen your plumage before we proceed.”
No one understood good grooming habits better than Poe. Cleanliness ran through his DNA. At birth, crow hatchlings desecrated into fecal sacs—Mother Nature’s diapers used by many birds. Some species instructed their young to defecate over the rim of the nest, but that act alone might attract predators. Much more efficient to carry the membranous sacs away. If one were to stumble across a crow’s nest—highly unlikely for various reasons—they’d find an odorless, spotless, and bacteria-free zone.
In the Caddy, Mayhem adjusted the rearview mirror to check the long, dirt driveway framed in tall pines, ash, and maple trees, the log cabin hidden from the main drag. “They should arrive any minute. If you hope to gain the upper hand, I suggest we enter first. Unless you wish to extend an olive branch to Shawnee and begin on common ground?”
Poe leaped onto Dad’s forearm. The obvious message meant he wouldn’t dream of going easy on her.
“All right, then.” When he opened the driver’s door, Poe snatched the baggy off his lap and took flight. Mayhem chuckled under his breath. Little rascal. From the backseat, he lifted out the covered dish filled with food to honor his loving wife—a Chippewa tradition practiced for a solid year after the passing of a spouse.
A mustiness rode the stagnant air inside the cabin. Holding open the door, Poe soared inside and circled the natural wood ceiling, flew up the open staircase, and cleared the second floor.
Two car doors slammed out front. Mayhem slid open the living room window. Neither Jacy Lee nor Shawnee noticed him. Both locked in a verbal disagreement.
“I don’t understand why you can’t stay with me, Shicheii.”
Jacy Lee palmed her fair cheek, cherry-red streaks glimmering in the sunlight, her long, raven hair halfway down her back. “Mourning Dove, you know why.”
“Yeah, yeah, Poe’s attuned to his environment.” She swatted at the air as though erasing her remark. “Big deal. He hates me, Shicheii. Like deep hatred, down to his hollow bones. If you leave me alone with him, there’s no telling what he’ll do.” Overly dramatic as usual, she flung out her hands. “What if he kills me in my sleep?”
“Come now, child.” Jacy Lee stroked her upper arm, trying to soothe her. “Paranoia is not a good look on you.”
“But—”
Jacy Lee silenced her with one flash of his palm, and his granddaughter relented, dropped her chin, and followed him into the cabin like a lost puppy.
Perched on the kitchen table, Poe stood firm, his wings caped wide, dark eyes glowering at Shawnee.
Halfway into the living room, she stopped dead—paused—and jabbed her head at Poe. “What’s that about?” she asked Mayhem.
“Intimidation tactic would be my guess.” Raising his fedora, Mayhem smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen loose from his braid, then extended a hand to his lifelong friend. “Nice to see you, Jacy Lee. Shall we head out?”
Flat palms flew straight out in front of Shawnee. “Wait—”
“Is there a problem?” said Mayhem.
“Yeah, there’s a problem. Your freakshow over there wants me dead, and you know it.”
Snickering inside, he forced down a grin. “Regardless of how long we stay, that is unlikely to change, I’m afraid. You did knock him out of mid-air, after all.”
Her stiff shoulders collapsed. “I’ve told you a bazillion times it was an accident.”
“I understand that, however, it’s in Poe’s nature to hold a grudge. One cannot change their true character. The instinct’s been implanted in his kind for millennia.”
Leaning aside, Jacy Lee hushed, “Perhaps we should let them reacquaint for a while before we leave.”
Rocking back on his heels, he could barely comprehend his old friend’s hesitancy. “If the rumors are true, you do understand that time is of the essence.”
“I do, Cheveyo.”
There weren’t many people who could get away with using Mayhem’s birth name—he preferred the anonymity of his epithet—but he’d known Jacy Lee most of his life. As a tribe elder and a powerful, spiritual Medicine Man, Jacy Lee had earned the highest level of respect. Shame he’d only reconnected with his granddaughter eleven months ago. Had they re-established their bond sooner, she’d act more grounded in their culture, centered, and a lot less feisty. Alas, the separation was the only way to keep her safe. Without that heart-wrenching decision to sentence her to a solitary life as an orphan, she would have never reached her thirties.
With an exaggerated exhale, he relented. “All right. I suppose a few minutes won’t set us back too far.”
“I’m starving,” Shawnee whined. “Maybe we could all have breakfast together before you split?” Without waiting for a response, she darted for the door. “I’ll grab the groceries from the backseat.”
The moment she left the cabin, Poe relaxed his wings.
“Good boy.” Mayhem crooned, ruffling his chest feathers. “You are cognizant of the fact that holding an impressive stance all weekend will drain your body of energy, are you not? I realize you want to make a bold statement, but I’d be remiss if I neglected to mention, by presence alone, you already have the upper hand. Thus, the stance is a bit over-the-top. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Poe’s wings slumped forward.
Jacy Lee slapping a frying pan on the stove perked up Poe’s mood, and he leaped off the table, fluttering down to the kitchen island. Like many animals—wild or domestic—crows viewed food as love. Humans often felt the same.
We feasted at celebrations. We feasted at ceremonials. We feasted at funerals. It’s a trait shared throughout the Natural World. Food’s the great equalizer. Nothing spelled love quite like a home-cooked meal.
With both arms stuffed full of grocery bags, Shawnee poked her head in the doorway. “Mr. M., you better get out here. Something’s goin’ down.”
When Mayhem hustled out to the porch, an emerging sea of black flapped toward the cabin. “Oh, my. Jacy Lee,” he called out as Poe flew to his shoulder perch, talons gripped tight to his leather-clad shoulder. This magnificent display proved the rumor mill got it right.
“Your training will have to wait, child.” Jacy Lee stroked his granddaughter’s arm. “We have work to do.”
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