Chapter 19 - The Hatáli 

Amá sání’s visitor was a strange old man, no more than five feet tall with long grey hair pulled back in a tight braid with specks of black and white throughout.  Despite the canyon of wrinkles that carved into his face, it was smooth from years of plucking out every little hair that sprouted on his chin, upper lip and cheeks.  In the dimly lit living room, his small beady eyes looked black, but when the light caught them just so, they took on another dark shade of color Mikayla had never seen before and couldn’t name.  In spite of the strange color of his eyes, they danced with life between the heavy, wrinkly folds.

Mikayla avoided looking at his eyes, afraid of she might find in those strange swirling pools of wonder.  What’s more, she found that she couldn’t look that old man in the eyes because when she did, it was as though a part of her was being invaded.  It was as though he knew everything about her.  That thought alone terrified her.  She couldn’t let a stranger know about her poison lips, or that she had killed her parents.  Did amá sání tell him?

It was all in his eyes and the way he looked at her; it scared her.  It was not because he had malicious intent, but quite the opposite.  He made her hair stand on end, much like she did to her grandmother when she touched the old woman.

Calmly, he smiled at Mikayla as she sat on the wooden floor in the living room.  The room was lit with a series of candles, their flames dancing and casting shadows on the walls around them.

Amá sání sat next to the old man before Mikayla, her hands in her lap, her body tense, and her eyes downcast and fused with worry under her knitted brows.

From the cloth bag that he carried, he withdrew several small pouches and poured one after the other carefully on the floor around her.  She didn’t understand the design he drew, but she liked the colors of the sand as it swirled together in an intricate pattern.  As he drew, he hummed a Navajo chant softly, one that she didn’t understand, but knew that it had some significant purpose.

Nevertheless, the entire prayer took about an hour.  Once he was finished, amá sání ordered her to bed (after he went into the bedroom Mikayla and her grandmother shared, said a prayer, and must have put what her grandmother called “charms” in the window).

Her bed consisted of a thin rollout mattress pad, a feather pillow, and patchwork quilt on the floor next to her grandmother’s bed.  Once settled under her blankets, she strained to listen to the murmur of their voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“I found one Shadow Walker out there,” the man said.

“And?  Is it safe?”

“Yes.  I took care of him before he could tell the others.”

Amá sání murmured something under her breath that Mikayla couldn’t pick up.

“Don’t worry,” the man said.  “As long as she stays here, we can keep her safe.  Out there is where the danger lies.  We can’t protect her from them out there.”

.

When Mikayla awoke later that morning, she was surprised to find herself lying on the couch in the living room, still dressed in her flannel pajama pants and black tank top—and gauze wrapped around her right arm.  Her eyes widened in alarm as she took in the crusty black stains on her hip and the bottom of her pant leg.

What the…?

Her heartbeat quickened as she examined the stains on her clothes.  Swallowing, she carefully unwrapped the gauze from her arm and assessed the fresh, pink scar as the black scab flaked off like ashes from a fire.  It was a nasty looking cut, and she didn’t remember inflicting it at all.

What happened?

She clutched her head as she attempted to dig through her memory to the last thing she remembered doing.

The hatáli's (or medicine man) dark purple, almost black, eyes flashed in her mind as the memory of her seven-year-old self came flooding back to her.  Did she just dream up that memory moments ago?

His words, “the Shadow Walker” rang throughout her head and then the morning events hit her.

Of course, that was it.  A Shadow Walker came during the night, ignited a fierce migraine that led to her slicing her arm open in order to release the built up of pressure.

Anna-Marie had been standing right there too.

Holy shit.

That decided it.

Mikayla had to figure out how to get out of the house without setting the alarm off.

She had to go home.

X

Mikayla spent the day completing the homework Isaac had brought over the day before, followed by picking Aiden up from school, spending about an hour with him to toughen him up, while interchangeably attempting to play “save the princess” with Gracie when she came home on the school bus.

In other words, Mikayla became the dark knight that Aiden had to save Princess Gracie from.

It was Gracie’s idea.

At first, Mikayla rolled her eyes and went along with it just to please Gracie, but once she got Aiden into it, she was actually having some fun.

Of course, she wouldn’t admit it to the kids.

As Gracie squealed with laughter, Mikayla stole her away from Aiden with one swift swipe of her arm, and lunged at Aiden with the other.  She commanded him to block her on his left, and he did pretty well.

Then she heard the click of the key unlocking the front door, and froze.

Gracie was hanging off her back, piggyback-style, and Aiden was waiting for her next attack.  When it didn’t come, he followed her gaze to the front door just a few feet away as Anna-Marie opened the front door.

She stared at Mikayla with Gracie on her back, Aiden just a few steps from her, and obviously playing some sort of game.

“What’s going on here?” she asked.  Mikayla could hear the disapproval under her seemingly curious tone.

“We’re playing save the princess, Mommy!” Gracie said with a giggle as Mikayla set her down.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah!” Gracie twirled around on the spot to point to Mikayla and Aiden. “Mikayla’s the dark knight, Aiden’s the good knight, and I’m the princess.”

“That sounds like fun.”

With Gracie off her back now, Mikayla straightened up and looked down her nose at Anna-Marie, who was in fact half a foot shorter than her six-foot stature.  Crossing her arms across her chest, she leaned her weight slightly on one foot as she stared Anna-Marie down.  Mikayla was sweating slightly under her black sweater, arm warmers, and gloves from all of the roughhousing, but she wasn’t about to reveal her physical exertion to Ann.

“Feeling better, are we?” Ann asked Mikayla.

Mikayla tried not to shudder at the vague memory she had managed to recall from earlier that day.  She wondered how much Anna-Marie had figured out, or what kind of ridiculous conclusions she might have come up with to try and make sense of anything.

Mikayla gave her a curt nod in response.  She tried to keep perfectly still.  A shift in her stance would indicate her anxiety, and she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself regarding her health.

If it hadn’t been for Aiden clearing his throat, the awkward silence would have carried on between Anna-Marie and Mikayla.

“Can we go to the library this weekend?”

Mikayla’s ears perked up.  Did she mention something to Aiden about going to the library?  She couldn’t recall, but the odds of him needing to go seemed highly unlikely.

As if in agreement, Anna-Marie cocked an eyebrow.  “What for?”

“I have a project due next week and my teacher told us that we have to use information from real books.  She doesn’t want us to use the Internet for anything.”

As Anna-Marie sighed, Mikayla could see the woman thinking over when the best time was on Saturday to take him to the library.

“I can take him.”

All three of the Wrights turn to Mikayla when she uttered those words.  She shrugged, like it was no big deal.  “I have an assignment due next week as well and I have to site books for it.  It’s an exercise in proper citation and essay format.”

“You are grounded.  Do you even know what being grounded means?” Anna-Marie said.

Mikayla narrowed her eyes.  “Do I need to report negligence to the board regarding my studies?”

Anna-Marie clenched her jaw.  “Fine.  We’ll all go to the library on Saturday.  Now go to your room.  When you’re grounded you stay in your room unless permitted to leave.”

Mikayla turned her back abruptly to the older woman and marched upstairs.  She didn’t want to be near Anna-Marie anyway.  She needed to keep herself concealed from the older woman before she called a priest over or something.  A priest couldn’t do anything to fix Mikayla of her curse.  All he could do was burn her with his damn holy water, but the demons still always remained.  So if he couldn’t fix her, and all he did do was burn her, then what was the point?  Been there, done that half a dozen times already.  It sucked.

Once in her room, she flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

What if Ann did call for a priest to come and perform yet another exorcism?

No, I have to get out of here before it comes to that.  I have to find the hatáli to perform the purification ritual.

Somehow, he knew, she concluded as her thoughts drifted back to the old man and his all-knowing eyes.  Somehow, he knew everything about me.  So if I returned to the reserve and found him, he would know me and know why I came.

She shuddered.  He was such a creepy dude, even if he was nice.

The Arizona state officials had taken her away from her home when none of her aunts and uncles would take her in after her grandmother passed away.  Not that she blamed them, but she would have preferred to stay on the reserve, near her people, and her protection.

She had to figure out the security code so she could leave the house as soon as possible.  Sneak out at the crack of dawn again.  It would figure that they would start using the security system now that she was suspended.

They can’t keep me locked up though. Even if it is safer in this house than out there… I have to find the hatáli.  Maybe he knows the answers.  Maybe he can tell me what I am?

But… she questioned herself, a heavy weight settling on her chest then.

Did she want to know the truth?

It was true.  There was some bliss to be found in her own ignorance.  However, even she knew that she had to find out sooner or later.  As time wore on, she began to think that sooner was better than later.

Things were just getting out of hand now.  Something had to be done.  She didn’t know who to go to or who to trust for answers, except for the hatáli.  If her grandmother could trust him, then so could she.

She spent the remainder of her evening upstairs in her room, her solitude interrupted only for the briefest moment when someone knocked on her door and left a tray of food in the hallway.  Mikayla guessed it was Anna-Marie, as anyone else might have stuck around to say hello or something.  Turning away the food out of spite was not an option since she was starving and knew that she had to keep her strength up.  She had a feeling that she might have another visitor in the night, so being prepared was a must.

She took her time eating, ensuring that all the food went down, even if it meant finishing off the last few cold bites three hours later.

Out of sheer boredom, she spent the evening reading ahead in her biology textbook and working on another sketch as she picked away slowly at her dinner.  Music filled her ears from her mp3 player, but otherwise the house was quiet.

She left her dirty dishes outside her door in the hallway once she was finished.  It wasn’t long before she heard the kids come up with James to go to bed.  She thought she heard James pause outside her room for a moment, but it was brief.

Another half hour passed when she heard James’ soft steps in the hallway again.  A gentle rapping on the door caught her attention.

She waited, wondering if she should call out or answer the door.  When the door didn’t open, she silently padded to it and pulled it open an inch.

James was still standing there, but he made no movement, appearing as though he was waiting for permission.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in for a bit?  I just want to see how you’re doing,” he said.

She shrugged and pulled the door open.  “It’s you’re house.”

“It can be yours too,” was his reply as he stepped inside.

She gently closed the door behind him so that they had some privacy if Anna-Marie happened to come up.  “Thanks, but I’ll save you the trouble of having to look after me soon enough.”

He turned to face her as she leaned against the door, picking one of her loose hairs from her clothing and letting it fall to the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Shrugging, she glanced at the closed curtains in front of her window in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with him.  “It means that, as soon as I’m eighteen, I’m out of here.”  Hastily, she added, “I mean, no offence or anything to you guys, but you’re better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“You’re the one putting up walls, you know.  If you took them down, you might actually let yourself be happy here,” he said, which earned him a snort from her.  “Unless, you have better plans, of course?”

Folding her arms across her chest, she allowed herself a quick glance at the older man.  Why was he always so cool and laid-back?  It was annoying.  Why couldn’t he just yell at her like Ann, and everyone else for that matter?  It would make things so much easier.

“How long am I grounded?” she asked, instead of answering his question.

He exhaled audibly, as if mildly exasperated, with a slight shake of his head.  “Answer my question, and then I’ll answer yours,” he countered.

That would have earned him a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look from Mikayla, had she not possessed a grim expression already.  She did tense up, and sharply diverted her attention away from his penetrating gaze.

Dammit, he knew just how to get under her skin.

She went to her bed and sat down, her gaze anywhere but on him.  “Look, I understand why you guys entered the foster program, but really, you’re crazy to want me to join your family.  I’m not…”

She couldn’t even finish her thoughts, biting on her tongue instead as her gaze fell on the floor underneath her feet.  She couldn’t say it, and she knew it.

I’m not normal.  I’m not Christian.  I’m no good.  I’m just a danger to you all…

“Don’t you want to be part of a family, Mikay?”

Her heart twisted within her chest, but she kept her gaze lowered.

Family?  What was family to her?  Amá sání was the closest thing to family that she had, and look what happened to her?  She was dead because of Mikayla—just like her mother and father.  The Wrights were not her flesh and blood; they had no ties to her, no reason to keep her.  How could they even think about allowing her to join their family?  It was ludicrous.

Maybe it was all just speculative?  Maybe they didn’t have any intention of allowing her to join their family?  Tentatively speaking, only Gracie had asked her to take a proper place in the family, and she was the least capable of making such decisions.

Still, Mikayla’s thoughts flitted back to her grandmother.  The woman’s warm brown eyes, her stern, but gentle smile, her long black hair, streaked with silver and braided down her back, the crows feet in the corners of her almond shaped eyes, and the lines that hung under them, bold, yet sad.  She was a woman of strength and pride, even after the loss of her daughter, son-in-law, and husband.

She forgave me, Mikayla thought as she clenched the bedding tightly at her sides.  Amá sání forgave me, even though my mother couldn’t…

Her mother’s flaring nostrils and unyielding black eyes swooped in front of amá sání in her mind.  Her eyebrows pulled down, and twisted the eyes as a grin tugged the corners of her lips up.

Maybe it was all in her head, but the look of pure, utter hatred stared back at her with a sneer that made Mikayla shudder involuntarily.

She’d had been raised in two types of families while growing up, and had always suspected that the latter had been too good to be true.

All good things came to an end eventually.

She closed her eyes as she pushed the image of her mother to the back of her mind.

This too, shall come to an end soon enough.

The prickling in her eyes and the lump forming in her throat, was proof that she was already getting too invested with the Wright family.  Not only that, but she was getting too soft.

Pushing her emotions down, she knit her brows and turned her face up at James in the most natural glare she could muster.

“Fuck off,” she growled.  “I don’t want your charity.  Just get out of my room and fuck off already.”

It was ridiculous to think that she could belong in such impossible concepts like “family” and being “loved” by someone.  She had more important matters to attend to, and that was finding out how to stop her curse from manifesting and causing more deaths.

After all, she couldn’t live with herself if she had killed one of the Wrights accidentally.

They wouldn’t be so forgiving then, she thought to herself as James left without another word.  She could see it in his eyes that he was too tired to argue with her.

It didn’t matter anyway.  Her mind was set, and there was nothing he could say to change it.

There was no question about it; she couldn’t taint their perfect family.

She would get her answers from the hatáli first, and then decide what the best route to take was after.

If her curse, her inner demons, could be contained, then she might stay.

If not, her only option was to disappear—for good.

.

Author's Note: The Navajo word "hatáli" means "singer," which is the Navajo's version of a shaman, or medicine man.