 
Secrets of Goth Mountain

By

Gary J. Davies

Published by Gary J. Davies at Smashwords

Secrets of Goth Mountain

Copyright 2014 Gary J. Davies

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free e-book. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own free copy.

This novel is a work of fiction created by the author and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are a production of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Thank you for downloading this e-book. This book is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be copied or reproduced without the written consent of the author.

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my wife Susan, who puts up with my time consuming hobbies, to my book loving daughters Kristin and Kimberly, and to my favorite author James P. Blaylock for his enchanting early elven fantasy novels. Also I thank William Shatner for his inspiring writing efforts; presumably if he can write novels, so can anyone else. I thank my artist-brother Robert Davies for help with my book covers. Thanks also to Microsoft for their spell-checker; which enables the formation of recognizable words even by engineers. Finally, special thanks to Rista of Goodreads for his review which led to significant 'clean up' corrections to the initial version and the March 2014 re-release of this novel. I apologize for any remaining errors.

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 JOHNNY

CHAPTER 2 ELIZABETH

CHAPTER 3 ELVIS

CHAPTER 4 THE SIMPLES AND MR. DARK

CHAPTER 5 SKUNK PROBLEMS

CHAPTER 6 HOMECOMING

CHAPTER 7 LIFE-EATER

CHAPTER 8 AMBUSH

CHAPTER 9 SUSPICIONS

CHAPTER 10 THE LOST

CHAPTER 11 NIGHTMARES

CHAPTER 12 ANN GOTH RETURNS

CHAPTER 13 DOOLEY FRIENDS

CHAPTER 14 COUNCIL MEETING

CHAPTER 15 ARTISTIC LICENSE

CHAPTER 16 HIDEY HOLE

CHAPTER 17 THE LIFE SOURCE

CHAPTER 18 BETRAYED

CHAPTER 20 FALLEN

CHAPTER 21 WHITE WOLF

CHAPTER 22 CLIFF

CHAPTER 23 CONFRONTATION

CHAPTER 24 THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE

CHAPTER 25 SWITCHED

CHAPTER 26 LOST

CHAPTER 27 REVELATIONS

CHAPTER 28 TREE TALKER

CHAPTER 29 FRUSTRATION

CHAPTER 30 ELIZABETH DISCOVERED

CHAPTER 31 SHAMAN POWER

CHAPTER 32 MOUNTAIN STRUGGLE

CHAPTER 33 AFTERWARD

About the Author and Other Publications

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CHAPTER 1

JOHNNY

"Fudge," cursed Johnny Goth, as he glanced at the ancient gold pocket watch that he always carried. He was again late for the Boxes Unlimited Company (BUC) weekly management meeting. The LA traffic he was driving in was slow as cold molasses, or at times frozen molasses, even though it was supposed to be 'rushing' at this hour, and this was the fourth intersection in a row where he had to stop for a red light. On top of that he was possibly lost.

Not that his absence from the meeting was significant; there was no real practical value to his presence at the meetings that he could distinguish. On the other hand, that didn't seem to matter one bit. As the fiancé of the daughter of the owner and general manager, he was supposed to be there anyway, soaking up entrepreneurial wisdom, even though the BUC's twisted, insidious business dealings were totally beyond him and boring as hell.

As far as he could tell, his recent university industrial engineering and business education was of no relevance whatsoever to the baffling art of cardboard carton manufacture and sales. Study of TV soaps and Machiavellian political tactics doubtlessly would have been much more useful.

He took advantage of the driving delay to hurriedly grope through his old leather briefcase with his right hand without even looking, skillfully burrowing past paperback novels and science magazines with folded-over page-corners, sticky half-eaten candy bars, and several dangerously sharp number-two pencils, to fish out a wrinkled pre-tied necktie of unknown and irrelevant color.

As he slipped it over his head he managed to further muss his already unkempt bushy brown hair and knock the thick, metal framed glasses off of his face, to fall between his knees and onto the thinly carpeted floor of the old Ford.

"Double fudge!" he complained. If he had worn the contact lenses that Angela made him buy he wouldn't have a glasses problem, but he was a glasses man through and through, as they helped him maintain his geeky image. Unknown to Angela that was the only reason that he wore corrective lenses in the first place; he could easily fix his deep gray eyes at will whenever he wanted to. However, since he had already managed to retrieve his glasses from the floor of the Ford that little trick would be unnecessary today.

As he regained corrected eyesight a horn honk from behind conveniently alerted him that the light had finally changed, and he eased the ancient Tempo forward, gently releasing the clutch and bearing down on the accelerator to baby the old engine and transmission and to keep the Ford from staling.

He could of course ditch the glasses and pretend to wear the contacts to please Angela, but that wasn't the point. If it weren't for Angela and her father, he wouldn't have a tie problem in the first place, and hence he would have no glasses problem. Personally he had no use at all for suits and ties, but Angela's dad, his new boss, required him to wear one, and Angela was always after him to spiffy up his image. The cruel shift from tea shirts and blue jeans to dress shirts, suits and ties had been only one of many painful transformations he had put up with since meeting Angela.

He was sort of a Clark Kent or diamond in the rough, Angela claimed. She was right about that, more right than she knew, figured Johnny. He wasn't exactly superman, but he had special abilities which he kept well hidden. He had long cultivated a shy, wimpy image so that he could blend into the background; so much so that after many years of doing it he wondered now if that is what he had actually become ... totally shy and wimpy.

Not that he cared very much about his image, as lately his life felt totally meaningless and directionless anyway. Angela had once described him as a wrinkled shirt, and vowed that she would smooth out his odd wrinkles. Johnny couldn't imagine Angela ironing a shirt, but she certainly tried to work him over. Lately Johnny wondered what, if anything, would be left of himself after her ironing. Maybe he wasn't sure what he wanted in life, but he had a growing suspicion that it wasn't Angela or Angela's image of him as a yuppie businessman.

The next intersection looked familiar. A familiar looking intersection could be a hopeful sign, but Johnny knew better than to be so easily encouraged. Unfortunately, nearly all the streets and intersections in L.A. looked nearly the same to him: improbably wide streets lined by inexplicably tall and strikingly exotic appearing palm trees and other tropical plants, impossibly priced, dilapidated stucco houses on postage-stamp-sized lots, and ramshackle motels, convenience and liquor stores, coin laundries, and other odds-and-ends shops. He reckoned that the entire area must have been built brand new a few decades earlier, but was by now showing signs of extreme age and appeared to be poised on the brink of extinction. One inevitable modest earthquake and it would all be rubble.

People were strolling about on the sidewalks, but without apparent urgency. Pedestrians also formed part of this so-called rush hour, Johnny supposed, but like the traffic on freeways and side streets, they didn't seem to be even trying very hard. Their strides were too relaxed and meandering, as if they had all morning or even longer to get to wherever they were wondering off to. Perhaps these casual rushers weren't involved in anything as critical as the cardboard box business, Johnny enviously speculated.

He glanced over at the bumper-to-bumper traffic that crawled along the nearby freeway and shook his head in wonder. The freeway traffic was moving even slower than the traffic on his side street. The LA commuting phenomenon seemed totally insane. The concept of millions of people shifting about daily this way was so absurd and out of character for Californians that it must signify something else, something deeper, he reflected. Monumental hidden forces were at work perhaps; pheromones or Moon-shifted gravity or Druid magic was compelling folks to swarm like locusts on weekday mornings until common sense finally triumphed and caused all of them to return home later in the day.

Or perhaps these commuters were wasting time as part of some gigantic hoax, gamely keeping up appearances that they were up to something productive until they could get back to drinking beer or surf boarding or whatever their real interests were. Johnny wouldn't be surprised if half of them, once they reached their work destinations, regularly decided to blow off the whole thing, and turned right around and went home or straight to a golf course or bar. After all, the other half probably wouldn't even notice.

Californians. Johnny didn't understand them; there were too many contradictions. He was from Ohio, farm and industry country that had its own water, halfway decent air if you weren't downwind from a coal burning power plant or a field spread with fresh manure, and a more straightforward and solid work ethic. An up in the morning and work until dark on the farm or in the factory and get it over with to free-up the weekend sort of state, without too much useless driving around, except sometimes in Cleveland or Columbus.

Of course almost everything in California was imported, including most of its people. Johnny peered about at his fellow commuters, looking for some sort of indication that there were other sensible Ohioans among them, also playing along with this crazy commuting business but in on the joke, but nobody looked back at him knowingly. Most stared straight ahead like zombies through their windshields, or bopped around in their seats, hopefully while listening to music from their radios, IPODs, or other electronic gadgetry. Perhaps it was too late for the Ohioans among them; perhaps they were already too far gone.

Maybe he'd have Mom mail an Indians or Reds baseball-cap to him from home, so he could more easily be recognized as a sensible sort. Besides, his mother Ann Goth had strongly opposed his moving to California, and would probably be cheered by his wearing an Ohio cap.

Almost magically, the BUC building abruptly materialized to his right, a large, decaying factory and warehouse that could have been transplanted by unknown forces directly from anywhere in the Eastern rustbelt, except maybe for the Spanish graffiti that covered most of it. Johnny understood a word or two of Spanish, but didn't recognize anything painted on the box factory, though he could appreciate the bright flashy colors and stylish calligraphy. California at least earned some points for its artful graffiti, in his view. The unintelligible Spanish gibberish on the box factory seemed mysterious and artsy, if viewed while in a positive frame of mind; in comparison, the pseudo-English graffiti sprayed on the buildings back home in Ohio was too obviously crude and banal.

Johnny eased the ancient Tempo into his VIP parking space between the new Cadillac and the classic Mercedes and climbed out, stretched his tall, lean, muscular frame and blinked in the bright sunlight. Without the thick glasses and suit he might have passed for a basketball guard or a football wide receiver instead of a tallish geek, for he moved with athletic grace and power that was impossible to totally conceal.

In college he had steered clear of playing competitive sports to avoid winning everything, though when he felt fairly certain that nobody would notice he sometimes personally tested himself to see what he was capable of doing. He found that he could easily run, jump, swim, and throw and lift things with much better than world-record ability, even when he wasn't trying very hard.

He locked the Tempo's door, a habit that he was forcing himself into since moving to the big city, and affectionately knocked his knuckles on the hood. It was a good car; after two hundred and fifty thousand miles it still had most of its original sky-blue exterior paint and hardly burned any oil. It had made the entire trip west across the mountains without overheating, though of course he had used his special abilities extensively to help it along. He used telekinesis to help push the car up mountains, and to provide improved circulation of oil and coolant through its old engine.

Now that he had a good salary, Angela wanted him to buy a new car, preferably a fancy Lexus or Acura that she wouldn't mind being seen in, but Johnny was solidly into buying old used Fords, Chryslers, and Chevys and driving them until they died a natural death, ideally leaving nothing but a pile of rust in the driveway framed by a couple of pairs of worn-out tires, ready to return to the soil with the next heavy rainfall. It was a matter of principle not money, he tried unsuccessfully to explain to her. Angela didn't seem to understand principles.

Dozens of little birds congregated along the building, hopping about while scrounging for seeds or trash brought in by gentle off-shore breezes or by transient loiterers. They looked like some sort of sparrow, but the colorful feathers weren't quite the same plain brown colors as good, solid, Ohio sparrows. Maybe they had been once, but like the people here they had also been tainted by California glitter and ballyhoo.

One flew by him with what looked like a French-fry in its bill, pursued by several squawking, jealous others. Apparently here in California even the birds ate junk food. They disappeared noisily into some kind of exotic red flowering bushes that were totally unfamiliar to Johnny.

He shook his head in empathy with the small bird with the fry; the poor bastard just wanted something to eat, but had been sucked into an urban rat-race. He couldn't see the pursuing birds now but he could psychically sense them; within the bushes they were relentlessly closing in on the harried food-bearer.

Johnny considered for a moment helping the bird with the fry. Birds weren't difficult for him to control; he could easily divert the pursuers. He could either use his will to directly control their little bird-minds, or he could use telekinesis to push them away. He quickly rejected the idea, even though taking the short view it would have been more fun and taking the long view it would probably more beneficial than what he would soon be doing inside the box factory.

Moments later what had been one of the pursuing birds fled the bush, victoriously carrying the fry. The little flock followed, squawking noisily, including the first bird, which he could recognize by its disturbed thought patterns. Natural selection was brutal, even when it involved French fries.

Whatever the flowery bushes were, they were probably imported also, and like the rest of the area inhabitants were dependent on water imported from out of state. Despite the near desert climate, Johnny noticed that his feet had gotten wet, from grass already watered earlier by hidden underground sprinklers that had probably sucked the life-giving liquid from someplace in the mountains that used to be nice.

He frowned and hesitated still longer at the factory door, squinting up at the bright sun. It was a damn shame to go inside on such a nice day, but then all his days here had so far been sunny and nice. Too nice actually; Johnny liked much better days that had more character to them, particularly days that were cool, partly cloudy and gusty; a day with fluffy little Peanuts or Simpsons clouds that streamed across the sky endlessly. Some rain to shake things up a bit would be good too; hail or snow would be better yet. All the bland sunny southern California days like this one, lined up monotonously one after another, had already become tiresome after only a couple of weeks. Like Angela?

What really had caused him to pause before entering the Company building was not the sunshine, but an unsolicited self-examination of his life, past, present, and future. Was this pretty much what he was setting himself up for? Was his entire life going to be like this? Rush hour traffic on impossibly sunny days? Box factory by day and Angela by night?

So OK, the Angela part was good, or at least the sex was. But their relationship had changed as time went on, particularly since they had both graduated from Ohio State and moved here two weeks ago. Changed for the worse.

They used to treat each other more or less as equals. Angela had always been pretty assertive and that was fine, but now that she had him back home on her turf she was trying to become downright domineering. "This isn't the boonies of Ohio. I know the ropes here and you don't," she explained. "Look where you found an apartment for yourself for example. It's out in the middle of nowhere halfway to Oxnard. There's nothing going on out there."

Johnny was rather pleased with the isolated shack in the rocky hills that he had managed to rent when he arrived in California. "Exactly right, there's nothing going on out there at all; that's why I like it so much. I also like the mountainous setting. It reminds me a little of when I was a kid and stayed summers with my Dad's folks out West." Johnny was fascinated with mountains, perhaps partly because Ohio was relatively flat, all of it. Topographically challenged, folks would say nowadays, if they were the sort that favored mountains and lingual correctness.

Even the modest sized, rocky, bush covered hills that surrounded his new apartment looked enormous to Johnny. In his mind's eye though, he envisioned far greater mountains. When he was a kid, Dad and Mom had shown him mountains so high that they had snow on the tops, even in August. He longed in particular for one special mountain: Goth Mountain, a towering black obsidian volcanic monolith capped in glistening white that was actually owned by the Goth family.

"Western Ohio mountains?" asked Angela.

Ohio mountains? Huh? Sadly, Angela wasn't joking, Johnny realized. She wasn't stupid, she was merely ignorant about things out of her field of interest, which, he was increasingly finding out, seemed to take in just about everything that he was interested in. "No, somewhere far out West. Exactly where is a big family secret that Mom won't tell me to this day. I told you all of this already, remember?"

"You know my memory, Johnny. With your brains and my good looks we'll really go places." By places, she didn't mean the box factory; for Angela that was already a done deal, and just a starting point for much grander things.

For now, yuppie parties were apparently the places she meant. She dragged Johnny to parties almost every night now, where she cultivated 'important' people, putting on airs in order to get the two of them invited to still more parties, given by ever richer folks.

This was the ideal life, according to Angela. It was much like hungry birds chasing after other birds that had bigger French fries, Johnny reflected. All of them were after the fast buck. The shared primitive instinct had probably passed between birds and mammals through some mysterious loop in evolution hidden by a gap in the fossil record, Johnny speculated.

That gene had missed Johnny completely. Johnny had no use whatsoever for yuppie parties. He particularly didn't like dressing up for the parties; it was bad enough to have to dress up for work. Clothes he didn't even like to wear were already cluttering up his small new apartment.

At the parties, Angela expected him to drink mind-numbing alcohol. He certainly didn't mind a beer now and then, but he'd rather drink it at home in front of a TV, in semi-clean jeans and tee-shirt, watching football, a PBS nature documentary, or an old Star Trek re-run, while washing down some pizza with everything on it except anchovies. Anchovies too, if he felt like really letting loose.

Being outdoors provided a better high for Johnny. As soon as he could break away from Angela and the box factory for a few days, he planned to drive up the coast, while parking the Ford now and then to check out natural wonders as he ran across them. There were countless mountainous parks and coastal beaches that he was dying to see. He'd completely fill the trunk of the old Tempo with sand-encrusted sea-shells, drift wood, and pinecones.

He especially wanted to experience forests. He loved forests more than anything else; he felt vibrantly alive and connected to life when he was in a forest. Here in the big city he felt like a fish out of water.

Above all he'd look for Goth Mountain on his trip, no matter what he had promised Mom. He had never broken his word to Ann Goth or to anyone else for that matter, but this would have to be the exception. As long as he could remember he had felt drawn to Goth Mountain, and that feeling had greatly intensified since he moved West and his life with Angela had gotten even more pointless.

All of this and more seemed foreign to Angela. "What about kids?" he had asked her last night.

She had stared at him blankly, as if she didn't even know what kids were.

"You know, little people that live with you as they grow bigger, spending all your money and driving you crazy, but sort of making up for it somehow anyway," he had patiently explained.

"I don't know," she finally said, though she clearly didn't even want to talk about it. "Maybe never. Certainly no time soon, I'm much too busy now. Ask me again in maybe ten or twenty years."

Johnny was dismayed. The party gene had missed him somehow, but his family instincts were very strong. How could Angela say that she was too busy for something as vital as children? All she did was party! That was time uselessly flittered away, as far as he was concerned. "And pets. You said pets are OK."

"No, I said that someday they MIGHT be OK, Johnny, when we have a big enough place. You want us to live on just your salary, remember? All the apartments I've been looking at for us to live in together after the wedding don't even allow pets."

"That's totally unsat!" he protested. "You know that I have a cat, not to mention a goldfish."

"That cat you took in when you moved here probably has a real owner. It will be better off without you. Anyway, cats are practically free, and so are goldfish; they can easily be replaced someday."

Johnny was stupefied. "Replaced? What on Earth are you talking about? Moocher and Goldie can't be replaced!"

"Johnny baby, it's not worth getting excited about. Of course they can be replaced. Anything can be replaced, it just takes cash."

"They aren't THINGS, Angela, they're living beings. My adopted family."

"Well of course they're alive; but they're just animals. Cheap ones. You paid fifty-cents for the goldfish and nothing at all for the cat!"

"Angela, your points are pointless; money doesn't even enter into it, and we're all 'just' animals."

"Science geek, you know what I mean. Money enters into everything, and unlike animals, we humans think and have feelings."

"So do they; or at least Moocher does. He has a prune-sized cat brain, but the infinitely vast, righteous soul of a poet. A penniless, self-centered, self-indulgent, lazy, idiot sort of poet, which is probably the best kind."

"Johnny, you're talking nonsense. You have to focus on your responsibilities now."

"Responsibilities are exactly what I'm talking about. They both depend on me."

"And I depend on you, and the Company depends on you. What you need to focus on now is money and position. You're a grown man, not a kid. Grow up!"

He would have argued further, but at that point Angela seduced him, right there in her parent's basement, while her folks were out to dinner. Actually, the basement was a hell of a lot bigger and nicer than his apartment, as it was part of a multi-million-dollar house; it was incredible luxury that he had to admit attracted him on some level, perhaps in the perverse sort of way that Angela did. When he thought about it objectively, he had to admit that he had made it big; he was engaged to a beautiful, sexy woman who would someday inherit a multi-million dollar cardboard box business. What could be better?

The problem was, in his gut none of it added up at all, not one damn bit of it. He knew for example that he should feel really good about everything this morning, but instead he mostly felt empty, emptier than he could remember ever feeling before, except for when Dad had disappeared on the Mountain that summer many years ago and Mom shortly thereafter returned both of them to Ohio for good.

School had been Johnny's main passion since then. Maybe because he was afraid of what might came after school he took three extra years to finally settle on arbitrary double-majors and graduate from Ohio State, even though all school work was very easy for him. Graduation wasn't a total crisis though, because by then Angela had become his next passion, at least during the times they were in the sack.

Until Angela he had avoided having close friends since leaving Goth Mountain. Avoiding friendships had been painful, but he had too many secrets to hide and too many temptations to avoid. In fact, his whole life seemed to be centered on avoiding things. So far that hadn't added up to very much of a life.

At first he thought that Angela was a huge positive turning point in his life, but he didn't think so anymore. Perhaps he had been totally adrift before being snagged by Angela, but by now he felt like he was in the wrong sort of river altogether, suffocating while being swept downstream to unknown and undistinguished ends, hopelessly swimming, when he bothered to at all, directly against an unrelenting current instead of cleverly angling out of it.

He didn't believe in destiny, but felt that there must be something more he could do with his life, something that meant something. Should he reveal his abilities to the world? No, definitely not. The Government would probably secretly cut him to pieces to figure him out, though on the plus side there might actually be some value to that from a science viewpoint. Worse, if he were to be found out, so would the Tribe and all the mysteries that were hidden on Goth Mountain. So it all came back to still keeping secrets, at least until he found someone he could totally trust.

Was there such a person? There had to be; there were already hundreds of people on Goth Mountain that he could trust, and of course there was his mother. But no, he couldn't trust Angela.

He found himself still standing outside the box company, so confused that he was not even altogether sure what he was confused about. He should go inside, he finally decided. These people were paying him; he should at least provide an honest day's work. After all, he had his Ohio work-ethic to live up to. Besides, he had nothing better to do at the moment. He stepped forward, reaching out his hand towards the door handle.

And froze. From impossibly far away came a voice. It was so faint that he couldn't tell if it was real sound, or just something in his head drawn in by his psychic abilities. "Johhhnnnny, Johhhnnnny; come play with Ned, Johnny," bleated the voice, goat-like.

Johnny's head spun dizzily and he staggered, nearly falling down. He had heard that voice before, a lifetime ago on Goth Mountain and in his dreams since then. An abrasive, Billy-goat gruff voice; it was Ned, one of Uncle Mortimer's strange companions and one of Johnny's closest childhood playmates during those wondrous summers when his parents took Johnny to visit the magical Goth homestead.

His mother had since tried to convince Johnny that it was all merely dreams. She wouldn't talk about those days and she didn't keep any photos or other memorabilia of Goth Mountain. She had tried to erase Johnny's memories of those summers long ago, but the memories always returned.

He reached into his pants pocket and ran his fingers over the lid of the gold watch, and the ornate forest scene on it that featured a unicorn in the center. He didn't have to look at it; he could recall perfectly every tiny detail of the watch, as well as his uncle, his father, Goth Mountain, the Tribe, Ned, and many other wondrous friends.

He smiled, but the memories weren't all good. He would never forget the day that his uncle Mortimer gave him the watch ... his father's. Mort had gone up on the Mountain to look for Dad and had returned with only the watch. "Sorry boy," old Uncle Mort had told the young boy. "I still haven't given up; I never will. But your dad has lost his way boy, lost his way but good. He'd want you to keep his watch close to you. It's very special. It has your Dad's likeness on the back of it. Someday you'll need it, I have a notion."

That was the last time that Johnny saw Uncle Mort. After a few days of frantic searching for his father with Mort, his mother, weeping the only time he had ever seen her do so, had taken him away from Goth Mountain and the Goth cabin, from Mort, Ned, and the Tribe, and from his father Mark, back to the Ohio of her childhood, never to return.

She let Johnny keep the watch, but in all other ways Ann Goth had tried to erase all evidence of his father's existence and anything having to do with the Goths. She was trying to hide from the pain he realized, as he grew older, and trying to help him do the same. Perhaps it worked to a degree when he was younger, but now his need to return to Goth Mountain was growing steadily.

Johnny wasn't even sure what state Goth Mountain was in, but he knew that it was near the Pacific, because once they had taken a short side trip to the ocean shore. The Mountain had monstrous trees, but not redwoods, so he figured it had to be somewhere further north than California: in Oregon, Washington, or perhaps even Canada.

To simply Google Goth Mountain would spoil things. If he found Goth Mountain on his computer without being able to immediately go there that would drive him crazy. On the other hand, if he looked but couldn't find it on the internet, that would drive him even more crazy. No, after he had settled in here in California a little longer, he'd go find Goth Mountain in person. He'd simply drive north along the coast until he sensed its presence. He had to do it. Maybe it was the real reason he had come to California with Angela.

Johnny looked up and down the street but saw nothing of Ned. He had been unsuccessfully looking for Ned for many years, behind Ohio bushes and trees, in closets and under beds, after imagining that he had seen or heard the goat man. But it had never been Ned, not for real.

It wasn't Ned this time either. Wherever Goth Mountain and Ned were, they were a long way from southern California. The voice in his head had already faded away. His mother was probably right; it was simply his imagination acting up again. "Your father and I told you wonderful stories, but they are only stories, they aren't real," she had told him, whenever he tried to talk to her about his memories. "As a small child, you saw things differently, with a child's imagination. Normal things seemed like magic to you. The Indian tribe was real, but you only think that you saw Sasquatch, unicorns and other strange things. Now as you grow up, you'll see things as they really are."

Maybe Mom was right, but she had still never explained very well the unusual things that he could himself do, even as a small boy. Things that he had quickly learned to avoid doing in front of other people.

She had never explained the mysterious pocket watch either, which on its own had gradually changed its appearance over the years. On one side it showed his gradually aging father. Johnny's own face also mysteriously appeared next to his father's on the watch shortly after it was given to him. Over the years both of their images changed to match their ages.

On the other side of the watch an ageless unicorn changed its appearance in other ways. Usually the unicorn reared up high on its hind legs, but sometimes it stood quietly on all four legs, or lay still in tall grass. Sometimes only its head was visible, and sometimes only its all-seeing unicorn eye filled the entire face of the watch. The unicorn was white, but its eye was black. The colors weren't coatings painted over the gold of the watch, they were part of the watch material itself. The white glowed brightly, while the black swallowed all light like a bottomless pit. Johnny suspected that the gold itself was a disguising veneer, and that the white and black of the unicorn displayed were the true characteristics of the watch.

What did it all mean? Would he ever know? Johnny shook his head sadly, and without enthusiasm finally entered the box factory.

"They've already started, Mr. Goth," said Sally, the elderly receptionist, as he walked past her desk towards the hallway that led to the conference room.

"Thanks, Sally," he replied, as he paused and returned her smile before continuing on towards the meeting. Sally was a very nice lady; one of the few people here at BUC that Johnny truly liked.

Johnny eased open the conference room door and entered quietly, hoping to sit inconspicuously in the back of the room near the door, totally unnoticed by the dozen people already sitting around the big table.

"Well, well, it's the Ohio kid, late for his third weekly meeting in a row," boomed Frank Welborne gruffly. The big cardboard box magnate and future father-in-law at the far side of the table stood up and towered over even Johnny, dominating the room. "The BUC starts here, Goth. You've come to straighten us out using your college education, have you?"

"No sir," replied Johnny, politely. "The other way around; I'm just here to learn the box business," he tried to say with sincerity.

"Damn straight, kid," Welborne replied. "Pull up a fucking chair and have a fucking doughnut."

Johnny wasn't particularly offended by Welborne's posturing and crude language, he just didn't see any point to it. It seemed to him that the big man's behavior was some sort of cheap, juvenile, macho-power thing that didn't register meaningfully, at least not with Johnny.

As Johnny pulled out an unused chair and sat down in an open stretch of the big round table, Welborne slid a half-empty box of doughnuts across the table towards him, and turned to face Mike Wells, the factory foreman. "Now, what the hell were you just saying, Wells? You say we've got to meet the specs now, and if we don't, we might blow the Beltright contract?"

Wells, a large, muscular, dark haired, rugged looking man in his early thirties, shook his head. He was the only person present in blue collar work clothes; everyone else was suited up neatly in deference to Welborne. "Right. We can't pass spec with the box materials we've been using. Explain it to him, college boy; it's your can of worms." He glared at Johnny.

"Sure," said Johnny with a shrug, though it definitely wasn't HIS can of worms. "Our standard cardboard uses about eighty percent recycled paper. That's a good thing, from both cost and environmental perspectives, but fibers in the pulp aren't as long or strong as in pure virgin pulp. Using our standard pulp, we can't satisfy both strength and weight contract requirements."

"No shit?" said Welborne sarcastically. "Is that all? Well, screw their spec requirements. Beltright won't even notice."

"They already have," said Wells. "College boy here sent them a sample from right off the production line and they tested it. They phoned late yesterday with the results. They've rejected the box."

"What the hell? How?" Welborne stared wide-eyed at Johnny.

Johnny shrugged. "They asked last week that we send them a sample box, so I sent one. I didn't know there was a spec compliance problem."

Welborne's face turned a deeper shade of red. "You sent them a regular sample box from right off our production line? Are you crazy? Didn't they teach you bait and switch techniques at that damn school of yours?"

"I guess I missed that class. Anyway, all we have to do is use a slightly higher grade material; add some virgin wood fiber, or better yet add fiberglass and save both money and trees. The basics are easy; simply give the customer what they want."

"And how the fuck do we afford that? Grow our own trees? I bid the job based on using our standard cheap recycled wood pulp and no fiberglass. Besides, we already produced half of the boxes to their non-standard size and shape specifications; nobody else will want those boxes. It's too damn late to switch materials now."

"Got any bright ideas, college boy?" asked Wells, smiling. Wells had it in for Johnny from the beginning. Johnny thought at first that Wells was jealous of his position as a production engineer, gained so quickly from a college education. Lately he suspected that Wells was also jealous of his position with Angela. Most recently, based on snickering and other antics from Wells and others, Johnny even suspected that Wells and Angela actually may have had an affair.

Johnny shrugged. How was he supposed to fix something that shouldn't have happened in the first place and wasn't his fault? They were the ones trying to cheat a customer!

"I know," said Jenkins, from sales. Jenkins was a mousy little man, but he was slippery as a greased weasel and had one hell of a slick sales pitch. "For making the rest of the order we use new material, and we deliver some of those boxes first. Then later we switch back to the other boxes."

Smiling, Welborne got up, laughed and slapped Jenkins heavily on the back. "Well of course that's what we'll do, it's obvious as hell. Beltright will be on their guard though. If they catch on we might end up taking an even bigger loss." He pointed a thick forefinger at Johnny. "If that happens I'm going to take the difference out of your fucking salary, college boy."

Wells snickered and someone else laughed out loud. Everyone knew that Johnny was on the payroll due to his relationship with the boss's daughter. Fucking salary indeed.

Johnny was speechless. He didn't see how he would ever fit in with this bunch. Business to them was a web of scams, lies and half lies, moved along by behind-the-back deals, posturing and intimidation. They reminded Johnny of the gang of little thugs that dominated the schoolyard at recess at his old elementary school. He had managed to steer clear of that crowd then, but now he had unavoidably fallen in among these alien pod people. Luckily, Sally peeked in through the doorway at that moment. "Excuse me Mr. W., Mr. Goth has a visitor that insists on seeing him immediately."

Welborne dismissed Johnny with a wave of his big hand and a snarl, and Johnny slipped out of the conference room to a chorus of jeers and hearty laughter from the group. They reminded Johnny of a troop of baboons that he had recently seen in a nature documentary.

"Thanks, Sally," said Johnny. "I was getting killed in there. Do I really have a visitor?"

"Of course you do. You know I'm the one person around here besides you that tells only the truth. It's a weird little man, Johnny; and I do mean weird. I thought at first he was a homeless person or some kind of drug addict; they come in off the street sometimes. But he gave me your name, Johnny-Eee-Eee-Eee Goth." She laughed. "He's strange, but he seems harmless enough, and desperate. Said he needs you to come out and play with him. He calls himself Ned. Hairy face and voice like a goat."

Johnny stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping. "Ned? A hairy little goat-like man?"

"Hairiest, most goat-like little man I ever saw."

"Where is he?"

"Down the hall. I left him in the lobby at my desk."

The lobby was empty when they got there.

"Johhhnnnny, Johhhnnnny, Eee-Eee; come out and play with Ned, Johnny," came a bleating voice from outside, but very close by. Johnny felt that he surely must be hearing things again.

"That sounds like him outside calling to you, Johnny Eee-Eee," said Sally, confirming the reality of the voice.

His heart pounding and his gold watch in hand, Johnny opened the door. Standing next to his Tempo and staring back at him with wide, sad, frightened brown eyes was someone who at first glance appeared to be a short, nervous, little hairy man, no more than four feet tall. He wore a much too-big plaid flannel shirt with sleeves that covered his hands, and shredded and muddy baggy jeans that ended around floppy, tattered sneakers of unknown original color.

A baseball cap covered the top of his head. The face was inhumanly pointed and hairy, with short black fur over everything except blunt black nose tip, thin black lips and gaping eyes. The legs were bent at wrong angles and bow-legged. Given closer inspection, it was perhaps a humanoid, but certainly not a human, that stood staring at Johnny.

"Naaaaaaaaaah," it bleated, goat-like, and abruptly bounced at Johnny with stunning speed, launching up through the air at him with open arms that wrapped around his neck and hugged him fiercely. Johnny staggered with the impact and fell down backwards to lie on the sidewalk, hairy little goat-man-thing on top of him.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Sally, from the doorway, as she ducked inside.

Johnny was squeezed so hard he could hardly breathe; yet he was so happy and excited that his heart raced and tears formed in his eyes. "Ned? Ned? It's really you?"

"Baaaaaaaaaaah," was all that the excided goat man could say.

Laughing, Johnny finally was able to push the little guy away such that they could both sit on the sidewalk facing each other.

"Hi Cub!" said the goat man, smiling. "You got big. We was almost the same size, last I saw yah."

"Ned, Ned, you ARE real! Where did you come from? What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you, Cub. It's trouble. We need you home; baaaaaah."

"Trouble? Home?"

The little goat man's smile faded and Johnny sensed in him great sadness and weariness. "Big trouble. We got to go right now." The little fellow stood up slowly and walked unsteadily to the Tempo, his sneakers flopping loosely. In greeting Johnny so vigorously he had evidently expended all of his strength; now he teetered as though he was on the verge of collapse.

His disguise was also in disarray. One of the sneakers had ridden up a few inches, exposing a cloven hoof that poked through its bottom. When he leaned against the car to steady himself and turned to face Johnny, the baseball cap fell completely off, revealing a pair of two-inch long, curly horns that sprouted up from the top of his forehead, and a pair of floppy Billy-goat ears that were growing longer by the moment. Ned's snout had also grown longer and hairier. All his human-like features were disappearing; Ned was slipping into his normal, more goat-like appearance. "This old heap of rust is yours, Cub, I can sense it," he said as he tapped the Tempo with a fore hoof. "Climb aboard and let's go. Time for you to come home to Goth Mountain, Johnny."

With a sigh, the exhausted little goat-man sank senseless to the ground next to the Tempo.

****

CHAPTER 2

ELIZABETH

"Of course Chief, I'd like to help, but I still don't understand why you want me to be involved," replied a surprised Elizabeth Winters. "From what I've been told the last couple of days, I guess I've already caused plenty of trouble."

Chief George Running Buck sighed and shook his grey-haired head. What more could he tell her? She had indeed created difficulties, but then she was an outsider, and outsiders always created difficulties for the Tribe and for the Goths. Unlike most outsiders, at least Elizabeth had good intentions. Since she started teaching school on the Reservation twenty months ago she had become a true friend to the Tribe.

She was an innocent, and an honest and good person, and the Tribe trusted in her and liked her. Grouchy old Mort Goth had actually started to take a liking to her. Besides, Great Two Bears approved of her, and that was plenty good enough for Chief George. Good enough to hire her in the first place and to ask for her help now, even though it was highly unusual to ask an outsider to become involved in Tribe business.

Still she was an outsider, and he couldn't possibly explain the whole situation to her, certainly not the thousands of years of tribal secrets, much of which he himself could only guess at, as he was merely Tribe Chief, and not the Shaman or a Goth. From what he did know of tribal history, the current crisis was unprecedented. Elizabeth had to be made to understand the urgency and criticality of the situation without causing her to panic and without revealing secrets. He sat down at one of the larger student desks directly in front of her, and tried to relax and look calm. "Trouble yes, I'm afraid so, but it isn't really your fault. You did what you thought was right, under the circumstances. Now we badly need your help.

"The Goths and the Tribe have worked together for many years to protect the woodlands on Goth land from outsiders. Now the Goth land might go up for auction as soon as next week."

"That soon? Don't these things take months or years?"

"There are powerful forces in play that will make it happen much quicker. If that happens the Tribe will try to buy the Goth land, but our cash resources are very limited."

"So are mine. I work for you, remember?"

The Chief grimaced. What the Tribe paid Elizabeth was disgraceful, by white man standards, though a fortune for the Tribe. "And we're very glad that you do. For you money isn't everything though, or you wouldn't work for us. Now I'm asking that you do another favor for the Tribe, a very big favor. I want you to temporarily close the school, and take over Mort Goth's cabin, so to speak, to buy us some time."

"Close the school? I don't understand. We only have a couple weeks left before summer break. Is it because I'm the only blonde on the Reservation?"

Chief George smiled. One of Elizabeth's greatest assets was her sense of humor. "No, we manage to overlook your blondeness as well as your blue eyes. This will be only temporary, for a few days at most. We want you to move into the back room of the Goth cabin and claim that you have been renting it from Mort."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped open.

"Mary can give you a few things right away that you can put in the room to make it look like you've been there a while already. You didn't explain to Sheriff Barns why you were there when you found Mort's body, did you?"

"Hardly; I simply told Sheriff Barns that I had found Mort dead. After all, that's what happened. Does this new story make any sense? Why would I live in Mort's cabin?"

"Your story can be that you moved in a month ago, when snow had melted enough to allow passage from the Reservation on foot. You didn't like the long commute from town and his was the white-man's place closest to the Reservation school."

True, the Goth cabin was only a three-mile hike from the Reservation school, though much of that distance was vertical. Still it was not too far at all, by rural western standards, if you were a true health nut, except of course when winter buried the mountainside in snow ten meters deep. "But Mort was an avowed hermit; everyone knows that. Why would he take on a border?"

"Mort needed cash for taxes, and that's the truth. Barns knows that all too well."

"But why must someone stay at the cabin? Can you tell me more about what the Tribe wants me to protect, and how I would do it?"

"If anyone associated with Fenster gets a good look at the forest beyond the cabin, he'll want to log it immediately for sure. That's prime old growth Douglas Fir forest, with plenty of big Red Cedar and Western Hemlock, too. We just want someone to keep an eye on things and keep snoopers out for now, someone who has a legal right to be there. It could delay the auction for a few days, if we're lucky. We're drawing up a rental agreement for you right now. We can simply back-date it, and make it all look real. We have to delay Fenster."

"Bill Fenster, the drug store Fenster? I heard he is an important man in Lathem."

"Right. Fenster owns the drug store, food store, lumber yard, apartments, funeral parlor, and the county sheriff, among other things and people all over the state. He runs the town of Lathem and the whole area, except this Reservation, and he'd like to own the Goth land and Goth Mountain, as well as our Reservation that surrounds most of it. He's the one that had the taxes on the Goth land raised."

Elizabeth had seen Fenster in town a few times, but hadn't met him. She recalled that he was a past middle aged, small, shifty eyed, weasel-like man that drove a huge old Cadillac.

At least given the Chief's explanations more things were beginning to make some sense to her. She had recently seen the old-growth trees surrounding the Goth cabin, and they were incredible. This was logging country, and Fenster was evidently in the logging business. Goth trees sacred to the Tribe were now in danger. No wonder Chief George made her dismiss school early!

She already knew that Tribe members visited the Goth property frequently, and not just to visit Mort. The Goth Mountain and forest were important to the Tribe in some sort of spiritual sense. Besides that, she personally felt very strongly that any still-existing old-growth forest should be preserved. "But why me? Why not someone from the Tribe?"

"Off the Reservation we're all treated lower than dirt on a totem pole, as long as Barns and his men are the law and working for Fenster. You have the political advantage of being white, Elizabeth. Our hope is that Fenster and Barns would have to think twice before crossing you, in particular since you are known to the public through the press."

Elizabeth shook her head in understanding. Last summer Trevor Stanton, her ex-boyfriend, had written a glowing human-interest press article about her teaching efforts on the Reservation. He made her out to be a Florence Nightingale, while ignoring the fact that she had taken the position primarily because it had been her only job offer in the general area of her Aunt's farm.

Since then she had fallen in love with the job and the Tribe's children. 'White Woman Helps Mysterious Backward Chinook Tribe,' Trevor's newspaper story had proclaimed. News must have been slow that week, because several west-coast newspapers and TV stations had picked up the story, and it went viral on the web. Trevor seemed quite pleased with the whole thing, though it didn't cause Elizabeth to change her mind about him. He was still a lousy creep.

The Tribe was immune to publicity and indifferent to it, for the most part. The reaction among whites in Lathem was mixed. A few townsfolk snubbed her, but many more told her that they supported her helping the Tribe. However, there were powerful individuals that didn't care about Indians or anyone else, only about what could be gained from any situation. Fenster was definitely such a person. The tribe had nobody in the white world of high standing to defend them. The fact that the Tribe's chief felt that she, a young nobody newcomer schoolteacher, had more stature legally and politically than they did, was very telling.

The bottom line was that Elizabeth loved these people, and wanted to help them and Mort's forest, if she could. "I'll help any way I can. Exactly what do you want me to do?"

Chief George sighed in relief. The Tribe needed all the help they could get right now. Old Fenster had been patiently trying to get the Goth place for decades, but with the death of Mort Goth, the aging tyrant saw his chance at last and his patience was spent. "Stall and keep them off the property, that's your job. Claim you need privacy, that you have paid for it, damn it. That will all be in your rental lease."

"Doesn't sound easy."

"But it could keep Fenster's snoopers off Goth land for a short while. We'll back you up, even physically ultimately, if it comes to that, but we need you to provide some legal authority as a renter, and a white renter at that. Keep them from the Sacred Grove beyond the inner fence at all costs, and out of the garden in back of the house, if possible. Tell them that you're renting use of the land and it's your garden."

Inner fence? Sacred Grove? She had heard Tribe members talk to each other about fences and patrols and a holy, sacred forest; they always clammed up or switched to their own language when they noticed her listening. In another year or two, that wouldn't work, given the rate she was picking up their Chinook-like dialect. "I didn't even know there was a garden."

"He had flowers out front that you've probably already seen, but he had mostly vegetables out back. Old Mort had what your people would call a green thumb. If folks see the garden out back by the old barn they'll get even more curious about everything else. We could tear out the garden, of course, but we'd rather not do that out of respect for Mort."

"I've seen the fence on the property border. Are you saying there is a second fence deeper in the forest? Is it there to protect more trees?"

"Yes, to keep outsiders from the upper, sacred grove. You can't see the inner fence from the cabin, but you can see it from the back of the garden. The inner fence was built by Mort's great grandfather long ago. Mort and his younger brother Mark built the outer fence when Fenster logged the lower valley."

"I've heard Tribe people talk about carrying out patrols along a fence. I had assumed they were referring to the outer fence along the Goth property line."

George sighed. How much had she picked up, teaching on the Reservation these last 20 months? How much should he tell her now? How much could he get away with not telling her? "We've helped the Goths patrol both of their fence lines for many years. Besides occasional hunters, mountain climbers and geologists to turn away, animals and falling trees can damage the fences or get caught in them."

"How long will I have to stay at the cabin?"

"Hopefully only a few days, until we locate Mort's heir. He must be located very soon or the land will be auctioned. Only by producing the heir and getting the taxes paid can we hope to stop Fenster completely. He is pushing the auction forward, but you living in the cabin will hopefully delay him, at least for a few critical days."

"The heir is Mort's nephew? The children talked about him in school today."

The Reservation was very small, word got around, even in the secretive Tribe. "Yes, Mort's only living heir by blood, his nephew, Johnny Goth. Fenster tried to claim that there is no heir, but fortunately the Tribe had papers to prove that Johnny exists. We don't have enough cash to pay the Goth taxes though. That's helping Fenster's cause."

"Do you even know that Johnny's alive? That seems like a huge assumption."

Chief George shrugged. "No one around here has heard from him or his mother for fourteen years. On the other hand, Two Bears and Mort have said that he lives, so it is really not an assumption at all. He lives."

"How could they possibly know that for certain?"

He shrugged again. "Great Two Bears is the Tribe Shaman, and Mort was the Goth. They have ways of knowing such things."

Elizabeth shook her head. No sense in asking what that meant. Once that sort of explanation had been given by the Tribe, she had never been able to dig any deeper. "And you think you can find him now?"

Chief George stood, signaling an end to their conversation. "We must. The fate of the forest depends on finding Johnny Goth." Not to mention the fate of the Tribe and perhaps humanity, he couldn't help thinking.

****

As Elizabeth walked from the small reservation schoolhouse to the nearby home of her friend Mary White Dove, she tried to make sense of all of this. Two days ago she had hiked off of the Reservation to visit Mort Goth at his home for the first and last time. She had first met old Mort at a Tribal festival shortly after she started her school teaching job. He wasn't the most social of men, but very gradually he had opened up to her. His property, which included the peak of the huge ice-capped volcano that was Goth Mountain, was surrounded on three sides by the Reservation. Only recently Elizabeth learned that the Tribe name, which she couldn't pronounce, translated to Guardians of the Black Mountain — obviously Goth Mountain.

Mort seemed to get on very well with the Tribe; Elizabeth had long suspected he was even some sort of honorary Tribe member. Now it all fit together. Only a close Goth-Tribe relationship could explain Mort's frequent presence on the Reservation and his warm friendships with so many Tribe members, for the Tribe was practically phobic about contact with the outside world.

While teaching the first year Elizabeth found out that for the Tribe to let her work on the Reservation had been a huge concession to outside pressures. As far as she knew, with the exception of Dooley Simple, the strange young hermit that haunted the whole area, Mort Goth and herself were the only non-Tribe people to regularly visit the Reservation.

Chief George was the only Tribe member who had been formally educated off of the Reservation, nearly two decades earlier. Since then the Tribe had done an astounding job of self-education, even converting to the use of English much of the time.

However, the state and federal governments wanted a state certified teacher involved, and Elizabeth qualified. Given the decline in the lumber business regionally, there were few jobs of any kind, including teaching, in the entire area. She could have taught school elsewhere, but she wanted to stay relatively close to home, and this was her only reasonably local job offer. The wilds of the Northwest were in her blood now, and this reservation was only about a hundred miles from her aunt's house, where she had lived since she was a teen.

Her mother's death had been a terrible shock that long ago summer, but so was moving then from flat, tame, Ohio to Aunt Heady's farm in the wilds of Oregon. The farm was snuggled away in a green valley that was still rich and relatively untamed. Its character reflected Aunt Heady's over-all philosophy on life. Heady wasn't too particular about what grew on her farm or what ate what grew there, as long as she could salvage enough to sustain herself, her niece, and a few chickens and milk cows.

As a consequence, as much wildlife as farm animals inhabited the farm, including raccoons, owls, bats, snakes and deer. Even elk, bears and cougars came and went from time to time, with a minimum of fuss.

Heady's farm was surrounded by wilder, quirky, tree covered rocky hills, beyond which could be seen untamable mountains that crowded up into clean white clouds untainted by smog, towards the very heavens themselves, Elizabeth felt. It was a place of dreams and eternities that she could see from her own bedroom window, a place that from then on she could feel within herself wherever she needed to.

Of course just looking soon wasn't enough. When her chores were done, the teenager spent every spare hour exploring. She liked being alone sometimes; she could freely talk nonsense to herself or practice whistling or finger snapping to her heart's content, whenever she wasn't silent and still as stone to better watch the animals or wind-blown trees and clouds, or busy poking around under rocks and logs for odd little critters to admire.

As her first September in Oregon approached she worried increasingly about going to school. Seventh grade would be disastrous, she was sure. She had always dreaded returning to school each year in Ohio, and feared that school would be even worse in Oregon, due in part to how stark a contrast it would be with her new happy farm life.

For one thing, she hated books. In Ohio books had been simply weapons used by teachers. There were books on history and math and science and English as dry, palatable and foreboding as hot, gritty desert sands and as properly straight, rigid and unyielding as cold steel prison bars and concrete walls. Using them, teachers directed her to read this, read that; think this, think that; apparently all as part of some great master plan designed to crush the will, regimen thought, rob each otherwise perfectly fine week-day from innocent children, and pound out of them all inherent natural curiosity and love of life.

Not that she was totally innocent herself. She secretly rebelled in Ohio, though she hadn't at the time reasoned out why she did it or what to call it. She was usually a very quiet and well behaved child, so she was never suspected to be the one who planted the snakes and toads in teachers desks, switched name-tags on objects and book-covers, and drew smiley faces on marker-boards using the wrong kind of marker.

She liked to think of herself as the mysterious smiley-face girl, and vowed that someday, after the legal statute of limitations on tomfoolery had assuredly expired, she'd return in triumphal style to Ohio and confess all of it, shocking her old fuddy-dud elementary school teachers into fits. On the other hand, now that she taught school herself, she could empathize with them a bit.

She had avoided taking books home from school in Ohio, as that practice only extended the oppressive powers of the school to dominion over any possible sanctuary. Mother had very few books around the house, as she had no interest in reading, other than an occasional newspaper or magazine. Mom was more interested in TV soaps.

Of books there existed only droll school textbooks in her Ohio world; she had heard of novels and other things of course, but never had occasion to read any of them. Mom had taken her to a public library once, shortly before becoming ill, but Elizabeth could only look upon the stacks and stacks of books with dismay. Would she be forced to read all of these before her school imprisonment was over? No damn way, she vowed. But then Mom got very sick and died and everything changed anyway.

Her new teacher in Oregon, Mrs. Middlestone, as much as Aunt Heady and the mountains, helped Elizabeth get through that first year in Oregon. The woman was either a complete loon or an incredible genius, Elizabeth later concluded, depending on one's point of view, which in itself was ironic, as Lindy Middlestone's greatest genius was in fact her point of view.

She was first and foremost unsinkable. The woman laughed and smiled sincerely through everything, towing her entire seventh-grade class along in her wake, especially the floundering souls who needed it most.

What did Elizabeth need at the time? Everything: a full makeover, head to toe, Zen to zits, body and soul. She did know that she was bright though not a genius, and pretty though not a raving beauty, and that recently she enjoyed animals and forests and mountains, and had so far somehow survived being an orphan. After that, it was all downhill when she was thirteen, right down to her murky quirky teenage depths.

Her first day in Mrs. Middlestone's class had the makings of a disaster from the get-go. Elizabeth's clothes were wrong, she talked funny, everyone knew everyone else except her, and she felt gawky and awkward in a body starting to show the first signs of woman-hood. She took a seat in the back of the room and prayed that she wouldn't be noticed at all.

Mrs. Middlestone, a bouncy butter-ball of a woman in her middle years, greeted the class with a sincere smile. "Welcome back to school everyone!" she bubbled. "And a big Oregon welcome to our newest pupil, recently moved from Ohio, Miss Elizabeth Winters." She impolitely pointed and the entire class turned to stare at Elizabeth's reddening face.

Mrs. Middlestone then read to the class her own report on how she had spent much of summer at the nearby Pacific shore. Elizabeth listened with growing fascination to her tales of the pesky antics of waves and crabs, kites being carried away helplessly on the wind, sand sticking between toes and under clothes in embarrassing places, bug-bites, sunburn, and other trials and wonders. The other kids laughed at many points, as at last did Elizabeth, once she had finally determined that it was allowed and that in doing so she wouldn't draw undue attention to herself.

Mrs. Middlestone had even seen whales; not just tiny little lifeless drawings or pictures of them, or even movies or television images, she had seen actual whales, sometimes close enough to reach out and touch! She brought out a big box of amazing treasures that she had gathered at the shore. Photos, twisted driftwood, and stones and shells polished by sands and time were passed around the room as she talked.

It was the beginning of a school year of astonishing discovery for Elizabeth. In a few short weeks she was transformed from an indifferent victim of learning to an enthusiastic participant. She spent all the time that she could in the school library, exploring worlds that countless others before her had witnessed or at least imagined.

The lessons that she learned that year helped to get her through grade school and college and into teaching. She wanted to pass on what she had learned to others, not so much dry facts and logic, but the spirit that she had discovered within herself, in Heady's valley on the fringes of the wilderness, and in a little country school in her seventh-grade year.

Teaching in the region was her way of passing on what wisdom she had learned, but she found instead that she was learning far more from her students and the rest of the Tribe. These people were content and in tune with themselves and their environment to an extent that both amazed and puzzled her. The children were all impossibly healthy as a group, and amazingly bright and free of anxiety. Despite their isolation from the outside world they absorbed the standard state curriculum with ease, leaving time for excursions into topics normally reserved for only honors students.

How was that possible? She was the first trained teacher they ever had, and the Tribe discouraged outsiders and visits by Tribe members to the outside.

Mort Goth was as much an isolationist as the Tribe members were. He shunned contact with everyone except his Indian neighbors and young Dooley Simple. The Tribe treated Mort with great respect. Elizabeth was particularly impressed by whom she usually saw Mort with when he was on the Reservation, for Great Two Bears himself usually personally accompanied old Mort.

Two Bears was the Tribe's shaman, a bigger than life giant of a man, a man of mythical proportions. The children of the Tribe, and the adults as well, including even Chief George, practically fell all over themselves when in the presence of Great Two Bears.

Elizabeth had spoken with Great Two Bears several times, including a brief job interview with him, an interview she was unlikely to ever forget.

She was astonished when he stepped into the new little reservation schoolhouse to interview her. He was the biggest man Elizabeth had ever seen; the biggest football tackles she had met in college would look like children standing beside him. Long graying hair held by a faded red bandanna framed a stern, weather worn, chiseled face with startling, piercing blue eyes that saw and understood everything. Blue eyes were a mystery, as all the other Tribe members had brown eyes. "An old shaman tradition," she was told, when she asked. How tradition could trump genetics she had no idea.

Great Two Bears always wore loose fitting, hand-spun gray wool shirt and trousers that covered him from head to moccasin-clad toes, except for gigantic bare arms that rippled with muscle. In the winter, he wore a bulky bearskin cloak and boots that made him look impossibly huge and fearsome. Yet despite his size and fierce appearance, he moved as quietly as a shadow, was soft-spoken and polite, and was said to be the most kind and gentle of men, and the wisest of sages.

The children talked about Two Bears in excited whispers that Elizabeth sometimes overheard. They spoke of him doing strange, wondrous things, impossible things, particularly with plants and animals. They truly believed that the Shaman could talk with bears and trees.

Oddly, they also talked among themselves about old Mort Goth in a very similar way. They whispered of seeing Goth healing animals by magic, reading the thoughts of other people, or even flying through the air. That puzzled her. She could well understand the children's hero worship of Two Bears, but what explained their tall-tales about old Mr. Goth? Was it because he was an odd hermit and the only white-man they knew, aside from that even quirkier young white-man, Dooley Simple? The children also sometimes whispered of strange magic non-human beings, with even more incredible powers.

Why were their stories so fantastic, and where did they come from? Were these old Indian myths, distorted for current use? When she asked the children, they just shrugged. It was a response she got a lot from all members of the Tribe, even from her closest Tribal friend Mary White Dove.

Mort Goth was himself a mystery. He seemed a quiet, quirky, sometimes cranky old man, not a bad fellow, though undeserving of hero worship. Elizabeth liked Mort. After a half dozen chance meetings on the Reservation, he had gradually warmed to her also, and had finally invited her to visit his cabin. It was almost the end of the school year and she was extremely busy, but she finally found time last Friday after classes to hike around Goth Mountain to his log cabin.

Mary told her of two trails that led to the Goth cabin from the Reservation. One was for vehicles and less rugged, but was longer and overgrown with brush from disuse. Too bad, she thought, as were it drivable she could have cut her driving time from town to the Reservation in half. Instead, Elizabeth followed a well-worn foot trail that wound its way from the Reservation's Center Village, around the sheer black basalt base of the volcano that was Goth Mountain, dropping off the plateau where the Reservation village lay and through a thickening forest of hemlock and fur that featured patches of winter snow that were still melting. The trail was at first simple to follow, but not the easiest of walks, and she was glad she had worn her hiking boots and sprayed herself with bug repellent.

When the trail crested and began to descend rapidly, Elizabeth knew that she must be entering the valley that sliced deeply into the Mountain on the Goth side. Goth Valley, it was called in Lathem, where she had an apartment. At a break in the trees she suddenly could clearly see the valley below, stretching to the west towards the town of Lathem, and miles beyond that, barely discernible through the haze, to the blue Pacific.

The valley floor below the Goth property line was a scene of shocking destruction. Even from far away Elizabeth recognized the wretched scene; she had seen it throughout most of the Northwest.

Goth Valley reminded Elizabeth of her Aunt Heady's valley a hundred miles to the South, where she was raised, with one terrible exception. Sometime over the last half-century or so, the valley below the Goth land had been completely decimated by clear-cut logging of old-growth Douglas Fir, Red Cedar, and Hemlock. Instead of then nurturing the cleared land to produce orchards and farmland, as her Aunt's forefathers had done, the Valley between Goth Mountain and Lathem had been totally abandoned after logging.

There were acres upon acres of huge ancient, rotting stumps, some eight or more feet across, surrounded by sickly looking brush and stunted saplings, struggling to survive in a few thinned patches of soil that hadn't yet washed completely away. This was Spring, when the power of nature was at its greatest, but this valley hadn't lived fully since logging had occurred more than two decades ago.

How long would it take for the old growth forest to completely recover, Elizabeth wondered? Nobody knew, as it hadn't yet been done. She remembered reading somewhere that an inch of topsoil takes more than a century to develop under good conditions, and these clearly weren't good conditions.

Over the span of millennia, loss of top-soil had toppled many a human civilization. Was this country doomed to suffer the same fate? Even given adequate soil in spots, how many tree-lifetimes would it then take for stunted, overcrowded saplings, small enough to be ravaged by fire or draught, to become the enduring giants of an old growth forest? Maybe it would take thousands of years for full recovery, or maybe full recovery would never happen. After all, history didn't really have to repeat itself. Maybe the best that could be hoped for someday was brush-covered lands and a scattering of medium sized trees. Elizabeth tried not to think about it; the whole topic was far too depressing.

Here on the mountainside at least, the trees grew free. The trail to the Goth cabin twisted among the trees and rocky outcroppings snake-like, and Elizabeth feared becoming lost. There were no written signs, and the trail began branching off. "Stay to the right-most path and down-hill," is all that Mary had advised. That had sounded simple enough, but besides the human-trod trails, there were numerous wild animal trails, some more worn than the human trail she followed.

After almost two hours she was relieved to at last find herself at a dirt road that signified civilization. The road obviously led down the valley and through the clear-cut wasteland towards Lathem. The road forked at this point. An old weather-beaten wood sign announced that the Reservation was somewhere up the road-fork to her right. That would be the overgrown truck-path that Mary White Dove had mentioned.

An ancient, rusted mailbox stood next to the road sign, with 'Goth' written on it in chipping white paint over chipping black. Evidently the road fork to her left that continued up the narrowing, stream-carved valley was the Goth driveway. Partly overgrown with grass and flowers, it obviously wasn't used very much either. Above and beyond Goth Mountain loomed ominously, a towering volcanic peak, its black bulk capped with starkly white glistening snow surrounded by wispy clouds.

What drew most of her attention however, was what stretched along the Goth property line. From either side of a stout old wood gate that blocked the driveway, a six-foot high barbed wire fence ran across the valley in each direction; to the left into the forest she had just exited and to the right all the way across the valley to a sheer cliff-face. To negotiate past the fence-line would evidently require either entry through the gate or cliff-climbing gear. On each wood fence post were unwelcoming signs that stipulated no trespassing, hunting, logging, fishing, or solicitations.

She took in those interesting features automatically, for most of her attention was focused on what towered before her on the Goth side of the fence. Gigantic old-growth Douglas Fir, Hemlock, and Western Red Cedar trees reached into the sky for eighty meters or more. She was very familiar with these trees, of course, but had never seen such huge ones.

Stunned, she didn't even try to open the low, massive, log gate, but climbed over it as she stared in absolute wonder at this incredible forest. As she walked slowly up the driveway, which wove its way deferentially around the ancient forest giants, she paused now and then to run her fingers over the bark of trees six, eight, or ten feet and more in diameter. This forest clearly rivaled the last surviving stands of great Redwood and Sequoia trees a few hundred miles to the south.

She wasn't alone; birds and other creatures could be heard and sometimes seen from ground level up; chattering, chirping, rustling, and otherwise enjoying themselves. Like many of them she chose to move from tree to tree, rather than staying on the driveway. At each tree she ran her hands over the bark and took in the tree's massiveness and vital strength.

She took care where she stepped however, to avoid crushing delicate new spring growth, some already flowering, that was emerging from the thick, spongy black humus underfoot, among scattered patches of wet, melting snow. The damp air was better than fresh, it smelled alive, providing a strong connection to the living Earth.

As she moved further along the driveway she noticed that several of the great trees were very unusual in appearance. She first began to notice vague patterns in the bark; the suggestion of an eye or face on a fir, or vague circles, spirals, flowers, or triangles on a red cedar. She first thought that she was imagining the shapes, but the further she went, the more elaborate and definitive the patterns became, until she at last encountered a cedar that was a living totem pole from which a dozen or more life-like humanoid faces stared out at her, encircled by spiral, flower, and animal shapes, also formed by bark, and, she suspected, the underlying wood itself.

Adding absurdity and humor to this inexplicable kink in the laws of biology, another of the red cedar trunks was completely covered by grinning Humpty Dumpty-like smiley-faces. This tree startled her even more than the others; it suggested that some unknown forest force knew of her own childhood affinity for smiley faces.

Of the method used to form these wonders, there was no evidence whatsoever. It was as if the trees had simply grown that way. Certainly they seemed none the worse for it; the dozen or so trees that featured most of the amazing growth patterns were fully as huge and robust as their peers.

After another hundred yards the forest opened into several acres of meadowland green with spring growth. On the far, upper end, a dozen black-tailed mule deer grazed peacefully with a pair of huge work-horses. On a small rise in the foreground sat the Goth homestead, at first glance a moderate sized log cabin of indeterminate age. Behind the cabin a log barn towered.

As she approached the cabin with growing excitement she noticed that countless lilies and orchids surrounded the cabin, catching the evening sun with white, blue, and purple blooms. The flowers were of the same type that were scattered thinly throughout the forest, but thousands of them congregated here and they were of extraordinary size – many more than two meters tall with flowers more than twice the size of teacups, twice as tall and large as any she had ever seen before. She would have to ask Mort about the flowers too. She hoped that she would be able to gently pry the answers to at least a few mysteries out of the old man.

Misled initially by outsized flowers and trees, only as she neared the cabin did she realize that the structure itself was much larger than she had at first supposed. The building was astonishingly massive, made of ancient logs so huge that they could have only been placed by hundreds of humans or the ancient Druid mages that had built Stonehenge, since the old cabin obviously pre-dated the advent of modern logging equipment.

After she knocked on the over-sized, solid wood-plank door and called out for several minutes and received no answer, she unlatched the massive door and pushed it open, thinking to at least leave Mort a note. The four meter high door was made of solid wood at least half a foot thick and must have weighed more than a ton, but it swung open easily on heavy-duty, well-oiled iron hinges.

Cold, fowl air poured out, as from a refrigerator that held spoiled leftovers. She entered and found herself to be in a great, high ceilinged room with chairs, sofa, and dining table cut roughly from timber but sanded smooth and upholstered with Indian furs and colorfully dyed home-spun cloth. Across the room a huge fireplace held only cold ashes. Ceilings were at least six meters high everywhere, exceeding even the front door's proportions, as though the cabin was designed to admit and accommodate giants. Two of the chairs near the fireplace were inhumanly large, and could easily have accommodated people a dozen times larger than even Great Two Bears. Elizabeth couldn't imagine what purpose they served.

There appeared to be no electric fixtures of any kind, although an antique metal telephone sat on the dining room table. Four small windows provided barely enough light to see. The far corner of the room comprised the kitchen, which featured ancient ice-box, wood stove, and a sink with a hand-pump.

Over the rough wood floor lay a patchwork of hand- woven rugs, also obviously from the Tribe. There were also dozens of wonderful woodcarvings of all sizes, mostly of local animals and Indians. These were vaguely reminiscent of the bark drawings on the trees along the driveway. Oddly there were also carvings of unicorns, Sasquatch, and other mystical beasts. Was this where the children were getting their western ideas about strange creatures, she wondered? Unicorns were an Old-World myth, she knew. All in all, this was the strangest and most interesting room she had ever been in, she realized.

A door to another room stood open; a room with a bed on which someone reclined, too deep in shadow to be seen clearly. "Mr. Goth, is that you?" Elizabeth asked, relived to see someone at home but increasingly anxious that they weren't at all responsive. Her heart pounding, she stepped closer, until she could finally see that it was indeed old Mort, lying motionless.

Perfectly motionless. He looked thinner and much more wrinkled than she remembered ... impossibly so, as though he had aged decades since last she saw him, almost to the point of mummification.

The odd, sickening smell was the smell of death, she suddenly realized with a shock, almost falling from the blow, her heart suddenly pounding loud in her ears.

Though she was by now convinced that Mort was dead, she had to absolutely certain. In a daze, though she felt too monumentally heavy to walk, she stepped closer, and reached for his wrist. When she finally managed to touch him she knew for certain that Mort Goth was indeed dead, for his body was as cold as the morning, and the skin felt like dried leather. He had obviously been dead for quite some time. Months, she would have thought, from the looks of the body, if she hadn't seen him alive only a few days earlier.

She bolted out and away from the cabin, glad to escape death, breathe the fresh, warm spring air outside, and experience life all around her. After a few minutes among the flowers, she had recovered enough to realize that she needed to report what she had found. Use of her cell phone was problematic this far from civilization; at the moment there wasn't sufficient signal strength to make a call. Reluctantly, she forced herself to return to the inside of the cabin to try to use the old land-line phone on the dining table.

An hour after her 9-1-1 call Sheriff Barns and a mortician's wagon arrived from Lathem. It was only as Mort's body was being carried out of the cabin that Elizabeth realized that perhaps she should have called the Reservation instead of automatically dialing 9-1-1. It didn't feel right, Mort being carried off like that, away from his Mountain and his Tribal friends.

She phoned Chief George at the Reservation, but the damage had already been done. As she finished with the phone call she noticed a gold pocket watch on Mort's bed. Several police were nosing around the cabin by this time and she didn't trust them. Their attitude was despicable; some of them seemed to actually be gleeful about Mort's death. She pocketed the watch while they weren't looking.

At first she thought that the Tribe was upset only because Mort died and had been quickly buried in the town cemetery instead of on his beloved Mountain, but she soon came to suspect that there was much more to it than that. The entire Tribe was anxious and apprehensive, as though some additional great calamity was in the making.

"I have Mort's watch," she revealed, when Two Bears finally spoke with her. "It was on his bed, and it has his likeness on the back of it. I thought he'd want you to have it, since you were perhaps his closest friend, and I didn't trust the police."

"You did well," said Two Bears warmly, as his huge hand closed over the ancient gold watch. "This watch is of great importance." He looked at Mort's image on the back of the watch and actually smiled. "Yes, I suspect that you have done very, very well indeed, Elizabeth."

Now by doing what Chief George asked of her she was doing her part to make up for her 9-1-1 call by averting further calamity. When she arrived at Mary White Dove's house, only minutes after her conversation with the Chief, Mary was already waiting for her with two packed suitcases.

"Chief George talked to me, Elizabeth," Mary explained. "He had me get a few of my things together, since we're close enough in size for my clothes to pass as yours. I packed some of my things that are from your world. You can put these things in the Goth cabin and make it look like you've been there for a while. The Chief is coming here soon to drive you there."

"So Chief George told you his crazy plan?"

Mary laughed. "No, actually it's my crazy plan, Elizabeth. His plan was even crazier. His idea was to simply post a dozen warriors with rifles at the cabin to keep all outsiders out."

The statement shocked Elizabeth. Tribe members had always seemed to her to be pacifists. She had never even seen a rifle on the Reservation. Now they might go on the warpath? Really? "Is it that serious?"

"Two Bears says it is."

"And if Great Two Bears says it is, than it is, I suppose."

"You suppose right. I wanted you to fully understand how serious the situation is, and how much we truly appreciate your help."

Elizabeth did a quick inventory of the suitcases and found the contents to be more than adequate for a day or two. The clothes were indeed of white-man manufacture; probably Mary's entire store-bought inventory. Mary had even included some school-children sketches she could put on walls, to make it look more like she had already been living in the cabin. What Mary had collected would serve for now; she would go to town and get some of her own things later.

A horn honked out front, and the Chief was soon carrying Elizabeth's borrowed suitcases out to an old pickup. Chief George's usual business suit was gone, replaced by jeans and a green tee shirt. The middle-aged chief looked more at home in casual clothing. "What happened to your Pontiac?" she asked him.

"Your little old Geo and my old Pontiac sedan may both be too low-slung to use the old road that goes around the mountain to the Goth place. Also, I'll leave this truck at the cabin and you can use it for yourself. This old truck is more reliable than it looks, and you can use it to move more of your things from town into the cabin. Let me know when you need help carrying things. You know how to use a standard shift, I hope?"

"Yes I do," she replied, "but you better drive this thing down that deer path you call a road."

The wisdom of that decision was soon demonstrated as Chief George skillfully worked the old truck down the over-grown dirt path, crushing two-meter-tall bushes that were reclaiming it, and lurching across several stretches where the roadway was currently being washed away by spring streamlets. He kept the truck moving fast enough to plow though brush and muddy ditches, actually much too fast for Elizabeth's comfort, particularly when the trail dodged around huge trees or wound along the edges of hundred-foot drop-offs.

The rugged four-mile drive seemed endless. Elizabeth bounced and slid around wide eyed and open-mouthed on the bench-style seat, which didn't even have a seat belt. She was terrified but afraid to protest lest she distract the Chief from his skillful driving. She glanced at him often and each time was reassured by his demeanor; he was calm and intent. She had seen that steely-eyed, confident look on the faces of Tribe members countless times, even the children.

"Don't worry; I know every foot of this trail, and I had a couple of braves clear our path of the larger fallen trees," Chief George reassured her.

Sure enough, as they rounded the next bend they passed through a narrow gap that had recently been cut through a fallen two-foot diameter tree trunk. A brave with a still smoking chain saw stood to one side, waving them through, displaying more technology than Elizabeth was used to seeing the Tribe use. He also had a rifle slung over one shoulder, she noticed. The path was easier going here, and she decided to risk additional conversation with her driver. "Why all the guns?"

"Just a precaution. The Fensters and their friends can be dangerous."

"Mary said that that you wanted to post a dozen braves with guns at the cabin."

"We have, though they will stay out of sight in the surrounding woods. But hopefully events won't come to violence."

The truck reached the road and was soon moving through the Goth gate as it was held open by another rifle-armed brave, and up the long, winding Goth driveway.

"But why would you allow violence under any circumstance? Aren't you taking this forest guardian business too seriously? Are the Goth trees really that important to the Tribe?"

"In a word, yes. But don't be alarmed, the guns are only a last resort. Oh, I have your lease. Page three gives you rights to stay on even if Mort dies. Please sign it right away and keep it with you to show those who will want to trespass." He pulled a thick envelope and a pen from under the front seat and handed them to her as the truck rolled to a stop next to the Goth cabin.

"I don't like guns," Elizabeth confessed.

"Me either; I'm more of a bow and arrow man." Elizabeth couldn't tell if he was putting her on or not, until he pulled out a long wooden bow and arrow-filled quiver from behind the truck seat, and slung them over his shoulders.

As she found the proper page of the surprisingly long lease and signed below her typed name, two braves armed with rifles slung over their shoulders came out of the cabin side door, rushed to the back of the truck, quickly retrieved Elizabeth's suitcases, and carried them into the cabin. She knew both of them a little; the Reservation was so small that she knew almost everyone. One of them, a handsome brave named Black Knife, wore his Tribal police uniform. The Chief hurriedly followed them into the cabin, motioning for Elizabeth to do the same. "Are we in some kind of rush?" she asked.

"Yes," explained the Chief. "Sheriff Barns is on his way here right now. They expect to find an empty house that they can search and take charge of. You are to deny them that."

Elizabeth followed them into a storage room that was rapidly being converted to a bedroom by two other tribal men. Just now they were finishing assembly of a small bed. The Chief quickly made up the bed as the others finished clearing the room of Mort's odds and ends, while Elizabeth unpacked her borrowed things, spreading them around so that the room looked lived in.

"That will have to do," Chief George announced, after only a few minutes of furious work. "We'll be in the forest nearby watching, Elizabeth."

In moments the tribesmen had fled. She walked to the front door and looked outside for them but they had already disappeared into the forest without a trace. "Spooky!" she exclaimed, as she pushed shut the massive door. She was comforted that the tribesmen would stay nearby but didn't much like the idea of guns and arrows aimed in her direction.

Her inside bedroom door led into the kitchen and she decided to explore the cabin. Two days ago the gruesome situation with Mort had prevented her from noticing many details.

She again marveled at how truly primitive the kitchen was, and wondered how anyone could possibly get along without electricity. There was hardly any plumbing either; an ancient hand-pump stood next to the sink. There were no appliances, except for an old cast-iron wood stove and an ancient icebox that looked like a small, cubic, cordless refrigerator. She opened it and found a few vegetables. These were of extraordinary size, but still provided pretty meager fare. She would need to bring food from her apartment.

Abruptly the big wood front door to the cabin swung open. "I want this whole damn place searched top to bottom, Clint," said a commanding voice that she recognized at once. It was Sheriff Barns. Through the thick log walls Elizabeth hadn't even heard their vehicles arrive. Barns stepped grinning into the great room with one of his deputies. The Sheriff was a balding, stern, middle sized, middle-aged, mustached man. His stature wasn't particularly intimidating, but his bearing and manner certainly were.

"Not unless you have a search warrant," announced Elizabeth, as sternly as she could, as she stepped towards them from the kitchen area.

Barns stopped in his tracks and looked at her in astonishment. "Miss Winters? What the hell are you doing here?"

"That's my question. I live here. You can't just come barging in here!"

"You live here? That's crazy!"

"I rent a room here, and have the run of the house, and the use of the land, which is also my leased private property, by the way." She moved forward to face him, hands on hips and face stern.

"I don't believe it," Barns said, shaking his head. "You were living here with that old Indian loving Goth? It don't make any damn sense."

"More sense than living directly with the Indians would. This place is within walking distance of the Reservation school where I teach. If I hadn't been visiting my Aunt for a while, I would have found poor Mort earlier."

"OK, the Reservation is probably a three mile hike over rough terrain but I guess it's possible, if you're a total health-nut that would rather climb up a mountain in the damn morning instead of sitting in a nice comfortable car. But I thought that you lived in town!"

"True, I do keep most of my things at my apartment in town. I still go back there on most weekends and some weekday nights. The contract I signed to teach on the Reservation is up in a few weeks, then I'll be out of here and totally back in town, until I line up a job in another town. In the meantime, I'll sleep here most school nights."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I was upset about finding the old man dead. Besides, you never asked me."

"You have a lease?"

"Sure. You have a search warrant?"

"Get the lease."

"I have my copy of it in my room. I've been checking it over to be sure of my rights." She walked into the bedroom to get it.

Barns followed her, eyes taking in the room. "This is where you bunk down?"

"This is it. I don't remember inviting you in here, either."

"Just show me the lease."

Elizabeth handed it to him. "Third page."

"Huh?"

"Where it says that if the current owner dies the lease still holds. The rental laws in this state back that up, I've checked with my lawyer."

Barns looked at page three, shaking his head. "Looks like it, but I'd have to get our own attorney to figure that out for sure."

"I have an attorney myself, if it comes to that. My newspaper friends know plenty."

Barns shrugged. "Goth must have been dead for many days before you reported him dead. Why didn't you notice the body earlier?"

"Like I said, I had gone out of the area to visit my aunt, and I was also still using my apartment in town. The snow has finally melted enough to make the hike between here and the Reservation easy enough such that using my room here makes sense."

"What about the Indians? They hang out here a lot?"

"Not since I moved in. I told Goth I see enough Indians during the day. Keep them on the Reservation, that's my motto."

Barns smiled. "Mine too. I figure we got enough unemployment in town without their kind coming after white-man jobs. Is that going to happen, with you teaching them white man skills?"

Elizabeth shook her head and laughed, deciding that she shouldn't tell him the truth about how intelligent and well educated the children of the Tribe actually were. "Not in our lifetimes. They're too dumb and backward to learn much. Anyway, like I said, I'm out of here after this semester, and beyond that I don't care. A couple weeks of tests and a week or two more of grading papers, and then I'm gone for good."

"They're backward, all right. Weird oddballs, on top of being Indians." He handed the lease back to her. "OK, the lease looks legit, but while we're out here, we'd still like to look around. Could save us driving out here again with legal papers."

"Sorry, but you've already intruded. Nothing personal, I just like my privacy and don't like being pushed around. I have a valid lease and you folks have already officially determined that the old man died of natural causes, so as I see it, you have no conceivable reason to be here at all. By the way, I heard that there is a plan to auction this place off really soon. I intend to delay that happening until I'm out of here. I have my lawyer friends working on it already."

The sheriff's smile disappeared. "You looking for big trouble, young lady?"

"Who, me? No, like I said, I'm simply avoiding commuting all the way from town. My rent is paid up through June, and like I said, I plan to stay right here until it ends, and then I'm gone. That doesn't seem like too much to ask."

"You'd pay a lawyer so you can stay a month longer in this dump? Why? There ain't even any electricity."

Elizabeth's mind spun. Right. Why? "My lawyer friend is free. Besides, I sort of like it here. It's quiet, and away from the redskins. On the other hand, other folks probably would like this place too. I heard that there are folks interested in buying it in a hurry. Folks with big money."

Barns nodded his head thoughtfully. "Could be. Now if that were the case, they might not like you holding things up."

"Well, perhaps I would change my mind, under the right circumstances."

"Such as?"

"Maybe if someone wanted this place sooner and badly enough, they might want to buy me out of my lease, for example. What do you think?" Elizabeth smiled and winked knowingly.

Barns grinned, shaking his head. "So that's your game. Could happen, I guess, but here is some real sound advice: don't get too greedy."

Barns turned and walked out of the cabin, waving his deputy out before him.

Elizabeth followed him to the door. "Sheriff, how can I get in touch with folks that might be interested in doing business with me?"

Barns turned and smiled. "Well now, I wouldn't worry about that. I expect word will get back to them somehow."

****

CHAPTER 3

ELVIS

As Johnny backed the Tempo into the street Sally and Welborne stepped out of the factory and saw him leaving. They both called out his name as the old car lurched away but Johnny pretended not to notice them.

He drove towards his apartment in a frenzy, with hairy little Ned slumped unconscious in the passenger seat beside him. Hospital? Doctor? Veterinarian? Impossible; usually Ned appeared to be a goatish creature, though not the sex-crazed satyr creature of Greek myth. Right now his shape was slowly changing from little goat man to that of a smallish sasquatch and back again. Most of the People assumed sasquatch form much of the time, but Ned charged to many shapes and liked the goat-man shape best. Johnny knew that he must be very sick if he was reverting to a sasquatch shape.

Ned was exhausted, that much was clear, far too exhausted to consciously shape-change. He was ill perhaps, but professional medical help from humans was totally out of the question.

Besides, Johnny had a feeling that human medicine wasn't the answer. He had to somehow get the ailing goat man back to Goth Mountain, back to the magic. He felt for Ned's pulse, but found none. Was he even supposed to have one? Johnny wasn't entirely sure.

He pulled off the road and stopped. Intuitively, he pulled his father's gold watch from his pocket. Maybe as Mom had told him it was just superstition, but ever since Uncle Mort had given it to him he always carried it with him wherever he went. When he needed reassurance or strength, he held it tight, and it seemed almost as though his father was there with him, giving him whatever strength he needed.

He examined the unicorn inscribed on the front cover, something he had done thousands of times. The workmanship was exquisite; the creature seemed almost alive. Currently the image was of a unicorn that stood proudly facing him, looking out at him quietly. Even as he watched it the unicorn figure moved slightly, shifting the aim of its spiral horn a few degrees. Perhaps most mysterious were the unicorn's eyes. Mere tiny dark pinpoints they were now, but they seemed to take on added dimensionality when they were studied carefully. Deep as night, the eyes seemed to reach out to his mind and soul.

He looked also at the back of the watch and reassured himself that images of both him and his father were still there. Over the years, Johnny's image gradually grew and aged as he did, and his father's aged as well. The mysterious watch was magic of some sort, it had to be. It helped him hold on to his strange memories of Goth Mountain, despite what his mother said. Also the watch helped him remember his father. He remembered that his father could do amazing things, things that Johnny could also do as he grew older.

There were many unusual things about Johnny Goth. He had never been sick or had even as much as a zit. Once he broke an arm. Neighbors rushed him to a hospital, but shortly after his mother joined them at the emergency room, it was mended. "You were mistaken about it being broken, that's all," his mother had explained, though the neighbors, doctor and nurse looked at them both strangely. The neighbors avoided them after that.

Particularly after that incident Ann had taken pains to disguise Johnny's unusual state of health in various ways. She kept him home from school sometimes when other children were suffering from flu, though he himself was healthy. She wouldn't let him play sports with the other children until he was mature enough to limit his performance. She also made him wear thick glasses.

He broke a lens when he was thirteen. He found that within moments his eyes adjusted to not wearing glasses. He didn't need them but his Mom insisted that he wear them anyway. By the time he left home for college he was so used to them that he decided to keep right on wearing them. When he took them off at night however, his eyes immediately adjusted to their absence.

There were many things that Johnny could do that other people couldn't, but he had learned to avoid doing them and stirring up trouble, especially trouble with Mother. However the capabilities were still there, and since leaving home he dabbled with them more and more when he was alone, amusing himself by telepathically communicating with animals, or causing pencils or chairs to spin or levitate. He avoided most sports to disguise the fact that he could also greatly enhance his already considerable physical strength and endurance.

He could also communicate telepathically; he could read peoples' thoughts sometimes or project his own, but had been so strongly discouraged by his mother from doing so that he hardly ever tried doing it in recent years. "It's a bad, indecent thing to try to read someone else's thoughts, Johnny," she told him. "The other things you do are also to be avoided, but reading minds is the worst."

As he grew older and it became too obvious that his powers were not inherently 'bad', she had relented somewhat, but reading the thoughts of others was still discouraged. In any case, to be found out would certainly be bad, so he came to understand that use of any psychic powers had to be private and limited.

Were his childhood memories of Goth Mountain magic and his strange powers unrelated coincidence? Mother claimed they were. "You read about people with strange powers in the newspapers all the time," she claimed. As he grew older Johnny didn't think so, no matter what Mom told him. The two things were linked, and he was determined to someday find out how and why. He had come west to do just that, he realized now, as much as he had come to be with Angela. Maybe more.

And now here he was, on his way to Goth Mountain! But first he had to help Ned. With his right hand he held his gold watch against the goat man's forehead as he said a silent prayer. He could feel the watch tingle. After several minutes he checked for a pulse again and thought that he felt one.

"Johnny go home?" the goat man asked weakly, as he shifted from sasquatch to a stable goat-man form, much to his old playmate's relief. He still looked tired, but his deep brown eyes now sparkled with life.

"Yes, Ned. Johnny is taking you home to Goth Mountain. I have to make a quick stop at my apartment, then we'll be on our way." He pulled the car back into the light westward traffic.

"Yeeeeessss," bleated the goat man, contentedly. "Don't worry about me, Cub. I'll be alright now that I found you." He closed his eyes, smiling.

By the time they reached Johnny's apartment the goat man was wide-awake and fussing with the car radio. He seemed to be full of energy. "Ned needs rock and roll, Johnny. Elvis." Ned found a moldy-oldie station. As sounds of an old Elvis tune filled the Tempo, Ned's body seemed to shimmer, the lines of his body blurring, before popping into view as none other than The King himself, all done up in silver-spangled show-duds.

Though as a child he had seen Ned shape-shift many times, Johnny was startled. However, he was pleased that his friend had recovered enough to return to his mischievous ways. He was less amused when The King of rock-and-roll popped out of the car and accompanied him towards his apartment, where his landlady Mrs. Triggle stood waiting for him. The frowning little old woman looked more putout than usual.

"Mr. Goth, your workplace and your fiancé have been phoning me incessantly. They say you were attacked by a homeless person or something, and then you disappeared and don't answer your phone." Her eyes popped when she noticed Ned. "Oh my Lord, it's him, he IS alive, and it's HIM!"

"How you doing ma'am?" asked Ned, using his best Elvis voice.

"Ah, I, ah, ah," stammered Mrs. Triggle, slack jawed.

Johnny was afraid she was having some sort of attack, and prepared himself to catch her if she were to faint. "Amazing resemblance, isn't it?" he improvised. "Ned here is the best Elvis impersonator in the state."

The woman's smile quickly faded. "Impersonator?"

"Of course. Great, isn't he? I'm sorry about the phone calls Mrs. T. It's just a misunderstanding that I'll set straight. I'm leaving soon for a while anyway. I'll be gone on a trip for a few days and out of your way."

"Business trip?"

"Yes-um," interjected Ned. "We got us some business up North, the Cub here and me. Important stuff."

Mrs. T. gave Ned a stern disapproving glance before returning her attention to Johnny. "That's none of my concern, Mr. Goth. Just make sure to tell your friends that I'm not an answering service." She turned away and walked towards her house, shaking her head.

"Sure thing, Mrs. T." concluded Johnny, before breathing a sigh of relief. He pulled Ned into his apartment, startling Moocher, who had been busy doing what cats do better than any other creature: sleeping. Cats are also adept at waking up. Moocher sprang three feet straight up into the air before bounding out of sight behind the sofa. Soon he peeked out from under it, trying to gage the odd newcomer.

Without even trying, Johnny could feel what Moocher was thinking. Dog? No. Relief. Rival cat? No. Relief and disappointment. Man or woman human? Yes. No! Not human! Strange creature!

"I am a cat friend!" said Ned, smiling at Moocher. His Elvis form abruptly shimmered and faded, leaving in its place a huge mountain lion. Moocher howled pitifully and disappeared completely from view under the sofa, his thoughts a fear-filled whirl, while the mountain lion sputtered with what must have been laughter.

In the meantime Johnny had changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. He pulled an empty satchel from under the bed and quickly stuffed it with a couple of similar outfits, socks, and underwear, before returning his attentions to the two main reasons he had bothered to stop at his apartment: Moocher and Goldie.

Goldie was easy. He scooped a gallon of tank water into a plastic zip-up freezer bag, then captured the little goldfish with his hand and gently plopped it in. He'd bubble oxygen into the water with his powers now and then, and Goldie would be fine. He then dangled the water bag near the sofa, luring the cat out into the open using the nervously darting fish "That's a good boy," he told Moocher, as he scooped up the cat. The cat went completely limp in his hands and began to purr, totally trusting Johnny and looking forward to the petting and scratching that he expected would now occur.

"Nice colors," remarked the mountain lion from the sofa, as he changed his own tan fur to orange to match Moocher, a weird enough spectacle to convince the cat to howl and squirm violently in an unsuccessful attempt to retreat again. Johnny could again sense the cat's scrambled, confused thoughts. He kept sending soothing thoughts to Moocher, but the terrified cat wasn't listening.

Ned shifted into his goat-man form, but the cat was not amused. Only through quick action and luck was Johnny able to plop the upset feline into the cat-carrier that he had recently purchased, before being clawed by the wildly gyrating creature.

"Yeeeooooow," complained the cat, from his prison, as Johnny shut and latched the lid.

"Sorry, boy," said Johnny, "I was going to gradually let you get used to this thing, but now we don't have time."

Moocher meowed pitifully, and Johnny could feel the cat's continuing fear.

"Talk to him Johnny," said Ned. "Cats shouldn't need to be in a cage. Nobody should."

"You ever try to drive with a cat running around in your car? The carrier is for his safety as well as ours. However, if you can get better control of your shape shifting I'm certain that he'll settle down."

Ned shook his head. "I'll do that, Cub, but you can do something more to calm him down too. Have you been away from home too long, Johnny? Did you forget how to do the important things?"

Johnny smiled. He remembered that Ned had a special way with animals, if he could get past his mischievous impulse to scare them. "I haven't forgotten everything. I've already tried to sooth Moocher, but he's still upset. Why don't you give it a try, Ned? Without shape-shifting this time."

The hairy little man smiled and stepped closer to the carrier, rested two furry, three toed hands on top of it lightly, and began to softly hum. Johnny could sense no well-formed, human-like thoughts, only emotions. Calm. Safe. Friend.

Almost immediately, the cat's pitiful complaints ceased. Ned opened the carrier, gently lifted out the purring cat, and boosted him onto one of his shoulders. The feline curled himself around Ned's neck and lay down, broadcasting feelings of contentment.

"See?" said the goat-man. "Feelings, Johnny, not words. Animals understand feelings best. With people there are always too many words. Now do we go?"

"I bow to your wisdom, Ned," said Johnny. His arms full of pet things and the satchel, he led Ned out to the car, after making sure that Mrs. Triggle wasn't watching. As they pulled away Ned and Moocher made themselves comfortable in the back seat, where both were soon fast asleep. Only when they were on the Coast Highway and winding their way North did Johnny realize that he hadn't told Angela or the Company that he would be gone for a few days.

From under the front seat he pulled the plastic bag that contained his seldom-used cell-phone. It was an old-fashioned model that didn't access the internet. He couldn't reach Angela but he did leave a brief message for her, explaining that he was driving North on urgent family business for a few days and to tell her father. Then he turned off the phone and restored it under the seat. For the time being, he was done with phones and the Company, and also with Angela.

For the first time in years he felt happy and free, and yet for the first time in memory he also felt that his life had a definite direction. He was going home now, home to Goth Mountain.

What would he find there? Uncle Mort and many old friends, hopefully. There was the Tribe, of course, including their giant shaman Great Two Bears, and several Indian kids he played with quite a bit. They would be grown up now. Besides the Tribe members there were the more mysterious People of course, but they were only rarely encountered, except for Ned. Usually those of the People that were shape-shifters took the form of Sasquatch, but Ned was more eccentric than most.

Then there was Goth Mountain itself. The Tribe and even the People were in awe of Goth Mountain. The forest that grew on the mountain side and the Mountain itself exuded life forces of amazing strength. Johnny had only vague notions about the ultimate source of the Mountain's life-strengthening powers. There was some deep mystery there, one that must tie in with the People somehow, a mystery that now he was hopefully old enough to learn about from Uncle Mort and Great Two Bears.

And of course there was that wonderfully odd kid from town, his best buddy, Dooley Simple. A lot of time had passed, though. Dooley and others had grown up and probably left the area. A big grin formed on Johnny Goth's face as he drove and bubbled oxygen through Goldie's water bag. No, Dooley would always be Dooley, no matter what else had changed, and he was probably still in the area. Johnny couldn't help smiling whenever he remembered Dooley. Then there was Dooley's roly-poly dad, Doc Simple. It would be good to see him again too.

****

CHAPTER 4

THE SIMPLES AND MR. DARK

"Simple! Warm up the oven."

"Call me Doc," said Fred Simple, grinning, as he turned on the gas. Joe, the tall gangly kid giving him orders, was twenty years old, tops, and his new boss at Authentic Cuisine, a restaurant only ten miles from Lathem. Finding a new restaurant so close to home had been a pleasant surprise. It was even more of a surprise to find one dedicated to the principle of providing truly authentic food. Joe, the assistant manager, hired Doc right away, trusting in Doc's description of himself as an experienced restaurant cook. Ellen, the other cook, was busy with eggs and flapjacks, and didn't even look up when Joe ushered portly Doc into the kitchen. She was maybe twenty-five, probably the oldest employee after himself, but still young enough to be Fred's offspring.

"Sure Doc, whatever. Here's your first order." Joe handed him a small slip of paper covered with scribbling.

Doc smiled. He had expected to be helping Ellen with the usual breakfast fare, but the boss evidently already trusted him enough for this special assignment. Mary, the young waitress, must have been studying to be a medical doctor, the note she wrote was so garbled, but he had deciphered worse, including ancient Egyptian and Babylonian. Kids nowadays, he thought, were too weak in the basics and classics, and this whole restaurant was manned today by kids, except for himself. They needed him all right! The restaurant business was a cut-throat affair, but maybe with him they stood a chance. "A bit early for pizza, but I suppose you've got to cater to everyone at this stage in the game," he remarked, but Joe had already ducked out of the kitchen.

"Oh bloody hell," Doc said, as he read the slip of paper again. "Right from the get-go, this one's a Jim-dandy." Shaking his head, he ducked out the back door.

Twenty minutes later, Joe found his new employee in the yard behind the restaurant, dropping a lighted match into a yard-deep hole that he had evidently just dug, judging from the sizable fresh pile of dirt and the shovel that lay nearby. The plump little man was breathing hard, the strain of rapidly digging the hole being almost too much for his middle aged, pudgy little body to handle.

After Doc dropped the match there was a minor explosion that sent red flames shooting out of the hole and well above ground level. "Simple? What the hell!" exclaimed Joe, above the roar of the flames.

"A bit too much starter fluid maybe, but I've never tried to start charcoal in a pit before, so I figured it was better to go heavy on the juice. Lucky I had a full bag of charcoal and some fluid in my trunk. I also happen to have a ripe pineapple with me. Canned pineapple simply wouldn't do, would it? Have you got a freshly butchered wild boar and some palm fronds?"

Joe was having trouble speaking. "A what?"

"A common domestic pig then, at least. I saw some corn-on-the-cob in the kitchen. I can use the corn husks to wrap the pig, along with some aluminum foil to hold the whole mess together. Lot of work for a Hawaiian pizza, but it will be as authentic as possible, under the circumstances."

"Pizza? You're doing all this for an eight dollar pizza?"

"Of course. An authentic Hawaiian pizza. By the time we have the pig and pineapple set to go, the charcoal should be ready, though I'll need to hike into the forest next for some dry wood to get coals that are just right. That should burn down and be ready for the pig in an hour or two. We'll roast the pineapple too, although pineapples didn't even originate in Hawaii, you know, or pizza either, as far as that goes. While those roast I can easily whip up some pizza dough for the crust. I assume you have some organic eggs, milk, and whole wheat flour? That would form the basis for a somewhat non-Hawaiian crust, but I would really like to add some taro for authenticity."

"What the hell is taro?"

"You know, taro, the staple food plant of Polynesia. Dried, ground up roots would be best, but I'd settle for some leaves mashed to poi, or some crushed taro chips. If we don't have taro from Hawaii on hand than maybe we have some from India? Oh, and ground arrowroot would be a nice touch."

"You're crazy!"

"Merely thorough. Lucky for you I have a PhD in ancient studies; this cooking method predates written history by thousands of years. The pizza should be ready to eat in roughly six to ten hours, depending largely on the size of the pig. Yep, the pig is the long-pole in this tent, that's certain. That will make it a bit late for breakfast, but I assume anyone ordering a Hawaiian pizza would know that doing the job right takes a little extra time, or else why would they come to a restaurant that serves authentic food?

"Alternatively, we could have of course send to Hawaii for pizza of any flavor, as that would make it a de-facto Hawaiian pizza, but that would be deceptive trickery rather than authentic cuisine, and I estimated that it would have taken several hours longer. Oh; I also found some tall grass growing out back that we can use for skirts. I propose that we hula dance as we serve it, to give it that extra special touch of authenticity. I haven't done the hula in twenty years, but they say you never forget; it's like riding a bike or sex."

"You're fired."

It was Fred's turn to be astonished. "What? What did you say?"

"Just give me the apron and clear out. Now!"

Fred shook his head in bewilderment as he drove towards town. Authentic Cuisine? How pathetic. It was just as well that he found out the truth early on his first day at the restaurant, and hadn't compromised his own principles. At least he still had his pineapple. Too bad about the wasted charcoal and starter fluid though.

****

Dooley Simple ducked behind a big fir tree and pressed his tall, thin frame against its rough bark, desperately wishing that he could change himself into a tree, like some of the People could. His lungs ached for air, but he was so filled with fear that he had to force himself to breathe, slow and shallow. There was nothing he could do to quiet his pounding heart. A big tear slid down his cheek, joining drops of cold sweat, as his mind desperately spun. What could he do? He was exhausted and terrified. He had been fleeing from his pursuer for several hours now, to no avail.

He couldn't hear it, but he could tell that it was closer than before and steadily becoming ever closer, moving even more silently and swiftly through the forest than he could, straight towards him, something monstrously evil and terrible.

Dooley had laughed when he first sensed it, moving along the forest path behind him, the chaotic evil of it immediately apparent to his Tribe-taught, heightened senses. He thought for sure it was Skunk, old Fenster's bullying nephew, trying once again to catch him and learn Tribe secrets from him, and he looked forward to leading Skunk and his motor-cycle gang of toughs another merry chase through the forest. The prospect of showing up Skunk again amused Dooley. Skunk didn't have a chance. These were his paths and forest.

Dooley's paths wound around town and all the way to the Reservation, running between small patches of remaining forest like a connect-the-dots game. Although most areas had been clear-cut by Fenster's loggers and their predecessors, there were still small mountainous stretches scattered here and there that hadn't been cost effective to log.

Since he was a young boy that is where Dooley spent most of his time. He was as good at making his way undetected through forest as any member of the Tribe; almost as good as one of the People, and using his long gangly legs he could run swiftly for hours.

Initially he was in one of the larger patches of remaining forest when he first sensed that he was being approached. The prospect of Skunk clumsily stalking him here was so hilarious that he fought back a fit of giggles, and couldn't help sporting a gap-toothed grin.

When he quickly realized how strong and swift and truly evil his pursuer was, he knew that it could not be Skunk; it was not even human. Dooley shifted to high gear and tried every trick he knew to get away from it. He left his well-worn trails and changed directions, backtracked, waded streams, climbed over bare rock and fallen trees, and squeezed through tangled bush and thick fern forests that hid him well. As he did this he chanted the few words of Power that he knew, even though he had never successfully used them before.

Nothing he did made any difference. His pursuer could apparently sense him as easily as he sensed it, no matter what he did.

It was also inhumanly fast. Several times it literally ran rings around him, playing with him, driving him this way and that, but eventually moving him ever further from town. It was smart too, Dooley suspected, probably a lot smarter than he was.

After a while Dooley realized that his pursuer was purposely driving him towards Goth Mountain and the Reservation. Well, he would have no more of that; he wouldn't lead this evil thing to his friends, no way! Besides, on foot it would take until tomorrow to get to the Reservation. Did this thing plan to chase him all that way? Could he put up with that?

No, two hours had been enough. In a little stand of old-growth trees Dooley at last stopped running, and stood his ground, and the thing that chased him was now apparently moving in. For the kill, probably.

He had caught a few brief glimpses of it already, a vaguely human shaped black shadow of a thing, moving too fast for a good look, its legs a blur as it took impossibly long strides. It was much too fast to be merely human. By the feel of its aura as well, it wasn't human or animal; nor did it seem to be one of the People. Dooley knew what the auras of all the People that visited Goth Mountain felt like; usually like nothing much, or if they did have much of a feel about them it was usually good, like the call of a songbird, the warmth of the Sun, or the smell of Spring flowers.

Evil involved hateful discordance with other life, without a glimmer of joy, longing, or wonder. But even quite evil people like Skunk and Skunk's uncle felt only vaguely repugnant, simply from having unsettled thoughts. The thing that now chased him felt very different, like a cold blackness that was less than nothing at times, at other times it reeked foul like the putrid stench of death, but a hundred times worse than any rabid or dead beast that young Dooley had ever encountered.

Two Bears had warned him once about evil things of power, things that fed on the flesh and spirits of others, things that sometimes could disguise themselves as normal people or animals. This had to be one of them, Dooley instinctively knew, an enemy of life in general and perhaps the Tribe and the People in particular. Certainly it was no friend to Dooley Simple.

As he stood terrified with his back against a tree, feeling the evil thing coming for him, he forced himself to remember the lessons of Two Bears. Thinking about something else helped him to begin to forget his fear, and let him recall what he had learned more clearly. "The forest has strength to ward against evil, if you become part of it," Great Two Bears had explained. Could Dooley do such a thing? Could he become a part of the forest? Two Bears said that he could. Many years ago Two Bears had even chosen Dooley's Tribal name to be 'Tree Talker' after the youngster caused faces to appear in the bark of trees along the Goth driveway. Dooley had to try; not only to save himself but to protect his friends on Goth Mountain.

"I am One with the tree," Dooley whispered. "I am One with the forest." A strange calmness came over him. He had tried this sort of thing before, but hadn't been able to manage the concentration required; thoughts of raspberry pie or going fishing would always intercede. Now all thoughts of simple pleasures and other trivia had been driven from him, fear stripping him of all but his essence.

As Two Bears had shown him, he closed his eyes and felt the tree at his back, felt it with his inner self, and slowly he understood, more clearly than he ever had before, how things in the forest all fit together. "I am One with the tree." Trunk and branches reaching skyward, green needles breathing air and drinking in the power of the Sun and wind caressing bark; sap slowly flowing, roots reaching deep into the rich, living Earth, drawing in nourishment.

"I am One with the forest." He felt roots linking the tree to the Earth Powers. Fresh new strength made in the tree fed back to the soil, adding strength to the ageless forest; strength feeding strength, linking current time with all eternity, and life with life beyond life.

His senses enlarged and altered along with his notion of self. He felt and mingled with the Powers of Earth, forest, and air, heard their countless voices ... laughing, singing, weeping, whispering; voices without sound, meaning without words. He couldn't understand them much, but he joined with them anyway. Intellectual understanding didn't seem to be necessary for joining.

"I am One with the forest," he thought, over and over, but being it now instead of just thinking it. As part of himself he could feel the wind and the sun and the Earth, feel strength flowing, but he could no longer sense the evil thing that had worried him, or remember it, or even himself. Conscious thought gave way to the essence of being part of the tree and forest. He had become nameless, ageless.

Time was without the swift measure of a human beating heart, it ebbed along with the slow swaying of treetop branches, with periods of sun and cloud induced shade, and with the slow movement of sap. Gradually as the sun began to set and the tidal flow of tree energies waned, the many linked forest voices faded, and Dooley's linkage to the tree and forest weakened. His inner self returned from where it had spread itself among the others of the forest. In the failing light of sunset Dooley woke up sitting with his back against the tree, feeling chilled but rested and strengthened.

The stalking terror creature had disappeared; there was no sign of the evil pursuer. Had Dooley dozed off and simply dreamed it all? He didn't know. He felt confused, as though he had awoken from a dream. Two dreams perhaps, a nightmare first, followed by a wonderful dream. Anxious due to memories of the nightmare but elated due to his successful joining with the forest, he rushed towards home, at first determined to be out most of the way home before total darkness, but he slowed his pace when he realized that the Moon was already nearly full.

He had been dreaming, and gotten a little confused, that was all, he told himself, after a while. He was all right now. He was safe here in his own woods, on his own well-worn path. Calmness returned again as he steadily worked his way towards home.

An hour after dusk he entered the town of Lathem through backyards and alleyways, skirting away from lampposts, traffic, and most human voices. Thin as a rail but nearly two meters tall, with tangled, shoulder length hair, full beard, and ragged clothes, he should have been hard to miss, but few people noticed him moving quietly among the shadows. Most who did barely noted his passage; he was a familiar fixture: poor, dumb, crazy, but harmless Dooley, out on one of his walkabouts again.

With selected people he made sure that he exchanged warm greetings. Poor in terms of money, yes, not very intelligent perhaps, crazy maybe, but Dooley Simple was the best-loved young man in Lathem, for when he wasn't busy in the forest, nobody was more warm and giving.

Can't find a baby sitter? Get Dooley. Can't get to the drugstore to fill your prescription? Dooley would do it. Lost pet? Dooley would find them. Need someone to fill in at the counter? Dooley was your man. Sick or injured or depressed? Don't even bother to look for Dooley, for somehow he knew already and would soon be on your doorstep, asking to help, and asking nothing in return except friendship.

"That wouldn't be right," he always said, when offered something material in return for his troubles. "T'weren't work, t'were helping out a friend."

But his endearing, growing circle of friends still found ways to in part pay Dooley back. "I got me some extra burgers here today, you happen to be hungry?" they'd ask him, or, "I was figuring to throw out some clothes that might be about your size; you'd be doing me a big favor if you could take them off my hands." He often found bags of canned goods and other supplies outside his apartment door.

Usually giving gifts to Dooley would backfire, since he passed on most of what was intended for him to other folks in town that were also in need. "I don't need much for myself," he'd explain. However, many townspeople found that Dooley did have a special weakness for fresh berry pie. "I better eat this here pie before the flies get at it," he'd say, as he consumed piece after piece.

Dooley was almost as famous for his practical jokes as he was for his generosity. Particularly if someone was pompous or bullying or selfish, they'd suffer from tied together shoe-laces, shampoo that dyed hair an odd color, shopping carts that moved to the other side of the store while not being watched, or socks with the toes cut out of them. None of it was too terribly mean, but it was enough to get the attention of the victim and make them think about mending their ways. And sometimes they did.

When he wasn't roughing it in the forest, Dooley lived in a tiny apartment over his Pop's old curiosity shop, but he didn't have much to do with the business. Old Mrs. Milligan kept the shop open for a few hours each afternoon, barely making enough to pay herself, the taxes and the utilities for the shop and the over-shop apartment.

Pop himself was almost always on the road, pursuing one outlandish scheme or another somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, usually someplace other than Lathem. Once in a great while he'd land a real job, but somehow he was never able to keep it for very long. Next to his bed, wrapped in a big rubber band, Dooley kept a tall stack of postcards that Pop had sent to him over the months and years, telling him where he was and what he was doing. When he was lonely and missed Pop, Dooley would get them out and read them, stumbling over the harder words, but usually getting at the gist of things well enough.

"I'm too much ahead of them all," his father would explain to Dooley when he was home. "It would be a waste of my talents to do menial work of course, my real calling is the use of my intellect." Smiling, he'd pull the worn copy of his PhD diploma from his wallet and show it again to Dooley. "See son? Doctor Fred R. Simple, PhD in Ancient Studies. By rights I should be a full professor at a big university by now."

Indeed, he preferred being called 'Professor' by everyone, or simply 'Doc'. At this point his Pop's smile would always be replaced by a wistful look. "At all the colleges and universities, they only want folks that march to the same old music. Because I'm such an independent thinker, I don't fit in. Sort of like you and high school, Son. I'll make my mark soon though, work some things out that nobody else ever even dreamed of, maybe even finish another book. They'll change their tune then, Son, and we'll have money to live together like normal folks."

"Sure, Pop," agreed Dooley, not understanding much except his undying faith in his beloved father. Though he hadn't finished the eighth grade himself, he knew that his father was especially smart, maybe even the smartest man there ever was. And he was doing important things, wondrous things that ordinary folks couldn't begin to understand and were far beyond his own meager abilities to comprehend. Someday soon however, everyone else would also understand what a true hero his Pop was.

"Tell me again about our house." Dooley's eyes would sparkle, as for the hundredth time, Fred would describe the house they would live in together someday, "an old farm house near or in the forest, with lots of rooms and plenty of food."

"I'll have a garden outside and my own room too?"

"Of course Son, and rooms for your rock collection and bird eggs and all the other things that are special to you, just like I'll have rooms full of books and specimens from my own important projects."

"And lots of fruit pie? Including berry pie?"

"Of course, all the pie you want; huckleberry, boysenberry, elderberry, and blueberry, and blackberry and raspberry too. And chocolate ice cream, as much as you want."

"And Mom?" Dooley would sometimes ask.

Fred would force himself to keep smiling. "She's gone ahead of us to heaven, you know."

"I know. But we'll see her again?"

"Sure; someday of course, and we'll all be together again."

"I miss her, Pop."

"Me too Son, me too. But we still have each other for now."

In truth though, as the years passed they had spent less and less time with each other. Dooley had long been self-sufficient, and with the shop essentially on autopilot through Mrs. Milligan, Professor Simple was almost always on the road, occasionally doing some free-lance research for a few of his old friends in academia, but more often pursuing rumors of an elusive Big Foot or mischievous Leprechauns or reptilian lake-monsters, and cooking or washing dishes at diners for minimum wage and leftovers in-between his adventures. He seldom contributed materially to upkeep of the shop or his son, but at least he never asked anything material of them.

As Dooley approached the shop he saw that some of the lights were on inside. It was much too late for Mrs. Milligan to still be there. It could be only one person. "Pop!" he said, breaking into a wide grin and trotting with his long legs the last fifty yards to the shop. Sure enough, Pop's old Chevy was in the driveway, and as Dooley pushed through the shop door, he discovered his plump little rosy-cheeked father sitting in his rocking chair near the counter.

"Hi Boy!" said his smiling dad, as he stood up and reached with open arms towards his son.

But Dooley stood frozen, bug-eyed and slack jawed. Near his father stood a tall muscular stranger dressed in black leather from head to toe. His bushy hair, beard, and eyes were equally black, and his thin lips were set in a smirking smile that showed perfect teeth that were even whiter than his pale skin. Of his aura there was almost nothing at all, only a black empty nothing, with a distinct twisted twinge of chaotic evil deeper than death.

Exactly like the thing in the forest.

"This is Mr. Dark, Dooley," said Fred Simple, his eyes moving between the two, puzzled. "Find your manners Boy!"

"Mr. Dark," muttered Dooley mechanically, but he wouldn't shake the hand that the stranger extended towards him. Instead, he stepped back another step, until his back was pressed against the door. He stood as though poised to bolt out through it. But Pop was here. He couldn't leave Pop alone with this monster!

"As I was telling you Mr. Dark, my boy here could probably tell you some wild tales about things going on around here, if you let him. He gets some crazy ideas about things from the Indians and probably from me, seeing that my profession is like yours: the scientific research of unexplained phenomena. Anthropology and psychology, of course, is what it all comes down to. All peoples have myths and legends. I try to track down their logical source, and figure out what might be going on inside their heads to cause such outlandish beliefs.

"I've researched everything around here several times over of course, but never gotten anywhere. The usual Indian drivel, that's about all; nothing much for the serious scientific researcher like myself to sink his teeth into. I'm afraid that you would also be wasting your time around here.

"There have been Sasquatch sightings in these parts, but they've died down in recent years. Now, at the seashore not far from here, I've recently been on the trail of some water sprites, and a hundred miles East of here I've collected some incredible Big-Foot footprints. Would that interest you?" Doc sat down in his recliner, hoping that Dooley would follow his example and relax.

"My current interests are more local," said Dark with an impossibly deep voice, never taking his eyes off Dooley. "Does the local Tribe believe in Sasquatch? I hear that the Reservation has a shaman. What can you tell me about him, Dooley?"

Dooley didn't say anything.

The man's grin widened, and his eyes burned into him. "Does the shaman have powers boy? Give you an Indian name, did he? Has he shown you some things? Things you used earlier today in the forest perhaps? Tell me!"

"Ugh, ugh," stammered Dooley. He was trying to remain silent, but something was compelling him to speak. It was Dark, Dooley realized, and those black eyes of his, reaching into him and trying to make him talk against his will!

"Hold there Dark, I can tell you about the Tribe shaman," volunteered Doc Simple. He didn't much care for the intense attention that Dark was giving his son. Dark had said that he wanted to meet Dooley, not that he wanted to grill him. The plump doctor tried to rise from his chair, intending to physically interpose his small pudgy self between Dark and Dooley, but oddly, he found that he couldn't even stand up. He was feeling tipsy, almost as if he had just chugged down a whole bottle of wine.

He did find, however, that he could still speak. "Two Bears is his name, Mr. Dark. He's a giant of a man and full of rumored powers: a fake just like any tribal shaman. Nothing real of course; nothing at all that anyone could substantiate scientifically. That's all right there in my book, Folk Tales of the Northwest. You mentioned that you've heard of my book Mr. Dark?" He wind-milled his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to draw Dark's attention away from his son.

Dark laughed, though his eyes never left Dooley. "Your book is full of silly nonsense, Simple, though it helped lead me to your town. Now that I am here I can find out the truth myself, but I'd like to learn more about the shaman before I go poking around on the Reservation. Dooley can tell me more, can't you boy? Much, much more."

"Now see here, Dark, I don't think I like your tone," interjected Simple, face red and puffing, he struggled mightily to stand up, stubby arms and legs straining and wheeling about impotently like the legs of a turtle flipped over to an unlikely angle, and straining against gravity grown monstrously strong, but seemed to be on the verge of actually standing when Dark waved his hand in the air and snapped his fingers. The plump little professor slumped back in the chair limply, limbs numb, only able to stare at Dark with the wide astonished eyes of a stunned mackerel, gasping for breath like a beached whale and unable to move or speak at all.

"Ugh, ugh," stammered Dooley, fighting to not say things, Tribe things he was forbidden to say. He might have tried to get to Pop, or fled, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the floor. The stranger with the black eyes smiled more, and Dooley felt his lips involuntarily forming words, prohibited words, secrets he was forbidden to tell anyone. " _Ael tou yuama_ ," he said, his lips somehow at the last moment contorting to change what came out. " _Ael tou yuama, kannsor_."

Dark's smile disappeared, his black eyes flashed red in anger for a moment. Then he grinned widely in mirth, showing pointed teeth that were too long and sharp to be human. "Good trick, boy. That's twice today you've used shaman powers. Perhaps some other time we will talk in private. Or I could use a bit more persuasion on the Professor." Dark glanced back towards the still swooning Fred Simple.

" _Ael tou yuama, kannsor_ ," repeated Dooley more solidly, taking a threatening step towards Dark, his fists clenched tight and his voice raising, his fear changing to anger and sudden strength, as he reached out to the forest around him for yet more power. " _AEL TOU YUA-MA, KANN-SOR_ ," Dooley shouted now, his voice grown in volume far beyond human capacity. Trees outside the house thrashed as though in a gale, though there had been no wind, and the front door swung open, pushed by invisible forces.

Dark's features suddenly contorted, his face becoming a mask of boiling hate, his big body dropping into a crouch, and a bestial snarling replacing words. Clothes changed to fur, shoes disappeared to be replaced by monstrous clawed feet. Sharp clawed hands reached out towards Dooley, while his legs bent at odd angles, coiled as though ready to spring. His face lengthened as his lips pulled back to expose white fangs. A snarling wolf-like head sat atop a monstrous, beastly body.

It was the thing from the forest, Dooley knew for certain now. The creature called Dark was trying to attack him, but was being held back by the forest forces that Dooley had called forth.

The young man didn't back away, but he stepped aside, away from the open doorway. " _AEL TOU YUA-MA, KANN-SOR_ ," shouted Dooley, one last time, in a commanding, thunderous voice that violently shook the house, as he gestured towards the open door.

Dark again strained mightily to step towards Dooley, but couldn't so much as move a clawed foot or hand a single inch in the young man's direction. He tried also to reach toward Doc Simple, but couldn't do that either; all he could do is howl in impotent rage, as he fought to even stay where was within the house, against relentless forces. Outside, trees and bushes whipped about in a frenzy, hemlocks and rhododendrons and boxwoods, drawing him out, pulling him towards the open doorway.

Snarling, Dark at last gave in to the irresistible elemental forest forces. He took a vicious, unsuccessful swipe at Dooley as he was yanked past him and out the doorway. Carried away like a leaf in a great storm, he quickly disappeared into the night as he howled wolf-like.

The winds died down and the nearby trees were again still. Far up the valley however, trees still thrashed as they transported evil further away from Lathem and the Simples.

"Holly shits," remarked Doc Simple, in the silence that followed.

****

Two blocks across town, an agitated Bill Fenster paced the office of his private study as he instructed his nephew Skunk on what he was to do. "Put a big scare into Elizabeth Winters, boy. Let her know I won't put up with any more shenanigans. Threaten her, push her around a little. Make her want to leave the Goth place and leave the entire area."

"I hear she's a real looker, Unk," rasped Skunk, licking his lips. "Hot stuff."

"She thinks she's hot stuff all right, to try to pull something like this on me. If this little bitch thinks she's going to cash in on her situation she's sadly mistaken. Offer her one-dollar for her rental agreement. And her life. Let her know her life ain't worth spit if she doesn't get out of my way, and no friends on a damn newspaper can save her cute little ass."

"I'm your man, Unk," said Skunk, grinning.

Right, thought Fenster. His man, and fortunately not his only man. He had to stand on tip-toes to reach up and pat Skunk affectionately on a scarred, hairy cheek. Two hundred-eighty pounds and hardly any of it was brain. Hard to believe Skunk was kin; his dead sister must have had an affair with a moronic carnival ape to produce Frank 'Skunk' Fenster. Wasn't there a carnival in town the summer before Frank was born? Didn't they have an ape on display? Skunk was an idiot, but a loyal, brutal, servile one that had his uses. "Our town librarian is her close friend, I hear. Get her to persuade Miss Winters to visit town, where you can get at her easier."

"Right, Unk."

"And tell our inside man at the Reservation we want to move on our plan right away. Once we start logging nothing will stop it. If that missing Goth kid ever shows up later we'll be too far along for him to end it."

"Right Unk."

"Here, split this between yourself and your native American friend." He pulled a roll of hundreds from his pocket and handed it to Skunk.

"Thanks Unk. We're really going to bust some big bucks on those Goth trees, ain't we?" His grin, if anything, made him look even stupider.

"Right. Now don't spend too much of that in a bar tonight or you'll be worthless to me tomorrow. Got it?"

"Sure, but you don't need to worry Unk, I can hold my liquor."

Bill Fenster stretched to his full five-foot seven as he stood chest-to stomach with his giant nephew and stared up into his eyes. "This is important Frank, get it? Very, very, important. Don't screw it up or you'll have me to deal with. Now off with you."

"Right Unk, don't you worry," rumbled Skunk, as he stomped away, still grinning as he fumbled with the money.

As Fenster stood shaking his head and watching his nephew depart, he suddenly felt that he wasn't alone. The hair on the back of neck would have stood up, if he had any hair there. He turned and was startled to find that a black-clad figure now occupied his favorite chair and was regarding him with cold, unfeeling, black eyes. "Dark! How the hell did you get in here? Have you seen Fred Simple and his boy already?"

"I have. I learned little, but enough for now. You were right, both the Reservation and the Goths are definitely of interest to me." His black eyes flashed red for a moment. "You haven't forgotten our agreement already, have you?"

"Hardly. Why do you ask?"

"I just overheard you speak of an inside man at the Reservation. Who else are you partnered with, besides me, and what do they want from this?"

"Nobody of consequence, but I promised not to reveal his identity to anyone. It won't affect you or our deal; you needn't concern yourself."

The man's smile deepened. "Perhaps, perhaps not. How can I be sure?"

"You have my word. Our agreement stands."

Dark laughed. "Your word? We only met yesterday, Fenster. Besides, like you, I don't depend on such things. Greed and fear and force are more reliable by far. Your little plan should help me get what I want more easily. If it doesn't, by the way, I will still get what I want; I always do. But my activities will also help you avoid certain possible complications, so it's in your interest to partner with me."

"And your part in this is to counter Indian mumbo-jumbo? It hardly seems fair that your only role is to protect me from imaginary dangers."

Dark smiled.

As he did so, Fenster abruptly felt like his arms and legs were being gripped by dozens of unseen hands. In another moment he found that he was being held suspended three feet above the floor by an invisible force. He tried to speak, to grunt, to cuss, but found that he couldn't utter a single sound.

Dark had been sitting quietly in the chair but suddenly in an instant his face was inches from Fenster's face, his cold, black, unblinking eyes locked with Fenster's. "Don't mettle in things you can't understand," said Dark, his voice impossibly deep and loud, the very sound of it hearting Fenster's ears. "Don't get in my way, and I won't get in yours, and we will both get what we want, that's the essence and extent of our agreement. Don't forget it."

Fenster found himself sitting on the floor of his study, trembling in fear. He hadn't seen Dark leave, but there was no sign of him. As he picked himself off the floor on wobbly legs anger grew inside him, displacing the fear. He didn't take kindly to being threatened. He wondered, not for the first time, if his dealings with the mysterious Mr. Dark were a mistake.

****

CHAPTER 5

SKUNK PROBLEMS

"I know it's very late, but could you please come by the library tonight, Elizabeth?" asked Janet Gibs the librarian, her shaky words barely recognizable over the old Goth phone. Elizabeth's friend sounded very strange to her. "I'm in trouble; I really need to see you," the librarian blurted out.

Elizabeth had just dozed off while lying on her Goth-cabin bed, so exhausted from the day's odd activities that being in a strange place for the night hadn't been a problem. The old phone ringing had been quite a surprise; she couldn't imagine who might be calling her. It was a friend from town who told her that she was in trouble. "Janet? How did you get this number? I don't even know what it is."

"The fact that you are staying at the Goth place is all over town."

"You're kidding! After only a few hours? But you sound upset. What is this problem of yours? It's after dark; can't we simply talk about it now, over the phone?"

"No. Please come here Elizabeth? Tonight? Now?"

Elizabeth yawned, her mind still realigning itself to being awake. She had slept for such a short time that now she felt more tired than ever, but she figured that she would be alert enough after some coffee. She could sleep in half the day tomorrow hopefully, if she took care of some things tonight. "Alright, sure, I can see you and also pick up some things at my apartment while I'm in town."

"Come here to the library first though, OK?"

"I'll be there within an hour. Why meet at the library? Isn't it closed for the night at this hour? Why not meet at your place or mine?"

"No, here at the library; it has to be here. Please?"

"Alright, sure, I'll see you there soon then. Bye." Elizabeth didn't like it; her friend sounded terrified. Janet led a pretty sedate life; she didn't even have a boyfriend at the moment. Elizabeth couldn't imagine what her trouble could possibly be or why she had to talk to her in person and immediately. Of course, Elizabeth did need to visit her real apartment in town very soon anyway. She had planned on making the trip first thing in the morning, but tonight would be better for Fluffy. Her poor cat already had plenty of food and water, but would wonder what had happened to her. She usually wasn't away this long. When she visited Aunt Heady, she always took Fluffy with her.

It was only as she was walking out the door and into the moonlight that she realized that the Tribe might not want her vacating the cabin, even for only a short time. Still, she had agreed to room at the Goth place, not to be a prisoner there. She would see Janet, pick up Fluffy and a few other necessities, and be back in about three hours, tops.

Quietly she got into the Chief's old truck and drove down the long driveway. The old truck had more pep then her Geo, once it was in gear, and she felt proud that she remembered how to drive a stick-shift. Aunt Heady would only own stick shifts, so Elizabeth had learned to drive in an old truck very similar to this one.

In her rear-view mirror she saw movement in the shadows and heard what sounded like several owls hooting. At the end of the driveway she quickly climbed out of the truck, pushed the gate open and drove through it and down the road, without bothering to re-close the gate. She wanted to get her errand over with without having to explain it to anyone. As she rounded the first bend in the road a rifle-armed Indian ran out into the moonlight behind her, waving at her and calling her name. She kept driving.

Lathem was comfortably quiet and dark when drove into town. The old town library was mostly dark, and was located at the end of a dark, deserted street. When Elizabeth turned off the truck in the library parking lot, only moonlight and absolute silence greeted her. There was no one at all in sight, but she felt vulnerable when she climbed out of the truck.

Most lights were off and a 'closed' sign was displayed, but the front door to the library was unlocked, so Janet had to still be inside. Cautiously Elizabeth opened the door and stood quietly for several tense moments, looking and listening. Light from somewhere deep in the library provided scant illumination of looming, shadowy shelves of books; most of the library was pitch dark. She didn't sense any movement at all, among the shadows, and she heard absolutely nothing. Was Janet even here, she wondered?

She somehow sensed that she wasn't alone. Almost any danger could be hidden in the darkness of the stacks, she realized. Lions, tigers, and bears? Oh my! "Janet?" she called out finally, not very loud, but loud enough for her voice to echo through the dark stillness.

"Here, Elizabeth," came the reply at once, Janet's voice, from the direction of her office at the other side of the big, book-filled room. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as all her silly irrational fears dissipated. Janet's office was where the limited light was coming from, she realized. She would have of course turned off the other lights when she closed the library hours earlier, to deter potential customers.

Elizabeth walked towards the voice and light, dodging bookshelves and tables half hidden in shadow. She was relieved to see her friend quietly sitting in the doorway of her office, facing out towards her. Her features were shadowed by the office lights behind her, so it wasn't until Elizabeth got closer that she saw that her friend's hair was mussed up. "Janet! What happened?"

"I'm sorry Elizabeth," said Janet. "I'm so afraid." She burst into tears.

At that moment lights came on, and Elizabeth was stunned to see that Janet was tied by ropes to her chair.

"Surprise," said a loud, mocking male voice directly behind her, as several other men laughed and hooted.

Terrified, Elizabeth spun around and saw him, or rather It, emerging from the stacks to stand a few short paces from her. 'It' was a six-foot-four, two hundred and eighty pound motor-cycle gorilla in tight black leather pants and matching vest, gold nose and ear rings, with knife scared face and hands. His age could have been anything from upper twenties to low forties; it was impossible to tell, but numerous scars suggested that this was a seasoned veteran of many a serious scrap. A wide white stripe down the middle of his long, otherwise black, pointed beard might have suggested a skunk's tail; his head was shaved bald and tattooed with swastikas and cuss words. The unbuttoned vest opened to a vast hairy chest framed by dark-tanned arms that rippled with muscle.

His eyes were wide and wild; Elizabeth's immediate thought was that he was on drugs. He was staring belligerently at her, with an ugly, mocking smirk on his face that suggested that while he hated everything around him he reveled in his ability to rip it all to shreds by his very presence, or by physical deed if he felt like it.

She might have seen him around town before, one of several guys hanging out around the seedier bars, she didn't know. As a general rule she tried very hard to not notice people like this one, hoping that they would do the same with her; a strategy admittedly used with only moderate success by zebras with lion neighbors. Where the hell are the big game hunters when you need one, she wondered?

****

After Dark left, Dooley had spent several minutes trying to explain a few things to his befuddled Pop, without much success at all. He tried to explain that Dark wasn't just nasty, he was evil, and that only a short time ago in the forest he had only barely evaded Dark, and that just now he had turned Dark away by using things he had learned from the Tribe.

It was much more than he should have told him, given his oaths of silence to the Tribe, but he had to somehow convince his Pop how dangerous Dark was. Of course he couldn't tell Pop that Dark wasn't human, that to evade Dark earlier he had to become part of the forest, or that to protect himself the second time he had used Tribal words of Power that he hadn't even remembered that he knew. To disclose such details would be to tell Tribal secrets for sure.

Not that it would have helped much anyway. Pop didn't even remember most of what had just happened with Dark; Dark must have blanked it out of his mind somehow. Also, as smart as he was, Pop didn't believe in that sort of stuff. He was a man of science, not magic, he often said.

Someday he would believe though. It was Dooley's fondest dream that someday he would be able to show Pop what he had learned about the mysteries that his Pop tried to study, so that his Pop could be proud of him, but that day had not yet arrived.

Dooley also explained that he had to warn his friends on the Reservation about Dark. He had been told to never trust telephones with information of this sort, so he would have to go to the Reservation in person somehow.

His father shook his head and smiled. "Now Dooley, I don't know exactly what you saw or did in the Forest, but your Reservation friends are capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, this Mr. Dark is simply a new business acquaintance of mine, that's all. I don't know what's got you so worked up about him. Right now we should both just get some sleep."

Dooley shook his head in frustration. Pop had either forgotten much about their encounter with Dark, or was in a solid state of denial. If he could tell his Pop everything he knew, about the Tribe and magic, then maybe he would understand, but he couldn't tell him, he had promised the Tribe that he wouldn't. He ran out of the shop and into the night, ignoring his father's orders to stop. Somehow he had to warn the Tribe.

His first impulse was to run straight for the Reservation by way of his forest paths, but on foot that would take all night or longer. Besides, what if Dark was waiting for him again in the forest? And isn't that what Dark had wanted in the first place, to drive Dooley to the Reservation?

He was walking past the library when Dooley realized that he should phone Chief George to warn him that there was some kind of trouble, even if he couldn't explain it all over the phone. Maybe someone from the Tribe could come and get him, and drive him to the Reservation. He fished some change out of his pocket, just in case he couldn't get the Chief to accept a collect call. There was a pay phone in front of the library that he could use, even though by now the library would be closed for the night.

Someone else was approaching the library in an old pickup truck though, probably to return a book using the book drop or to use the pay phone themselves. A woman parked and got out of the truck. She was alone. Dooley was stricken by an almost irresistible urge to jump out from behind the bushes and shout 'boo', but in recent years since he had grown to over six and a half feet tall that trick had usually gone very badly. Besides, always the gentleman, Dooley had already decided that he would let the lady do her business first. If he stayed hidden behind the bushes the woman would leave shortly and never even know that he was there; that would be best.

He was surprised when woman went straight to the library door instead of to the telephone or the book drop, and even more surprised when the door immediately opened to her touch. As she stood for a few moments at the doorway and quietly said the librarian's name, he realized that this woman was none other than a good friend of his, Miss Winters, who taught school on the Reservation. Odd time to be visiting her friend Janet at the Library, he thought, but still none of his business. He remained quietly hidden.

As he rounded the bushes to head for the phone he was startled by the presence of several bulky shapes hidden in the shadows that didn't belong there. There were five monstrous motorcycles hidden among the Rhododendrons, including Skunk's big fancy Harley.

He was even more startled when a dark shadow separated from one of the bikes, walked to the old truck that Miss Winter had emerged from, and moved around it slowly, stooping near each tire for several seconds.

It was one of Skunk's men, but fortunately he was too busy to notice Dooley. In the quiet of the night Dooley could hear bursting sounds and air rushing, and he suddenly realized that the tires of the truck were being destroyed by the man! The truck slowly listed and lowered by several inches. Dooley also finally recognized the truck; it was Chief Georges' old pickup, the very vehicle he had hoped would come and pick him up! When he was finished doing his dirty work, the gang member moved to the library door, and quietly disappeared inside.

Suddenly afraid for Miss Winters and Janet more than for the truck or himself, Dooley slinked quickly to the library door and peeked in just as all the lights came on inside. He heard the unmistakable voices of Skunk and several of his gang, laughing evilly.

He had to help, even though he, Janet and Miss Winters were far outmatched, that was certain. He needed to get more help, fast. The tribe was too far away. Then who? How?

****

Elizabeth stood terrified before the big hoodlum.

"I'm called Skunk, bitch. I bet you heard of me," snarled the apparition.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice cracking. She had heard that a nasty hood named Skunk was the leader of a local motor cycle gang that dealt in illegal drugs. He had even been driven off the Reservation several times.

Skunk was grinning and eyeing her like she was meat on the hoof. His piece of meat. Skunk's open leer moved slowly down her body, his eyes stripping away her clothes, then, still in no hurry, they moved back up to again gouge her eyes. The ugly bastard smiled, licked his lips lewdly, and even winked.

Thinking of poor Janet, Elizabeth was almost as angry as she was terrified. Almost. Looking around quickly for some means of escape, she discovered four additional men, each as big and ugly as Skunk, circling her, cutting off any possible escape. Cornered, she backed into Janet's office and stood next to the librarian's chair, putting her hand on her friend's trembling shoulder to steady herself as much as to comfort the sobbing librarian.

"Hey bitch, stay put," commended Skunk. "You're hot for me; I can see it in your eyes." Moving as light on his feet as a huge cat, he stepped into the office, circling around the other side of Janet and coming up behind Elizabeth, where she stood frozen.

She felt his steamy breath on her neck and in her right ear as he spoke into it, and smelled his putrid breath. "Nice looking little bitch, ain't you?" Suddenly his huge hands clamped down on both her arms with irresistible force, and he pressed the front of his body hard against the length of hers. "Oh, yeah! Forget them Indian braves baby, I can give you all you need and more."

She felt helpless and violated. And mad as hell. After a near eternal second or two frozen in shock, she arched her back and drove her head up and back into his face, while kicking at his legs above the boots as hard as she could with a Nike clad foot, and twisted violently out of his grip.

He cursed as she fell away from him and onto the floor, while the other men laughed and shouted obscenities. She tried to pull her feet under herself to stand; she intended to spring away from Skunk or even at him. She had taken a course on self-defense in college, and her mind was suddenly alive with visions of gouging out his mocking eyes or kicking him again where he'd feel it a lot more. At the same time she was so terrified that her body shook uncontrollably and she could hardly stand up. Attacking the monster before her seemed out of the question; she decided to instead run for the door.

He didn't let her. His big left hand shot forward to encircle her neck and hold her motionless. "Big mistake bitch!" he shouted, spit and blood from his cut lip spraying her face. He lifted her up by her neck as his right hand formed a grapefruit-sized fist that drew back to clobber her.

"Whoooo," cried an owl angrily from the book stacks behind the circle of men. "Whoo-whoo-whooo."

The sudden resulting look of surprise quickly disappeared from Skunk's ugly face, to be replaced by a big, gap-toothed smile. "Why it's just our old buddy Dooley, boys, come to join in on the fun. Get the door locked Mike, we don't want any more party goers coming in or getting out." One of the men ran towards the outside door, the others fanned out towards the disembodied owl hooting that persistently came from somewhere in the book stacks.

"Let her go," shouted Dooley, from behind the stacks.

"Why?" Skunk replied. "You want her for yourself boy? You even like girls? I bet you do! I bet you look at lots of girls when you're sneaking around town at night. And you spy at lots of Reservation girls too! That right?" With a wave of his hand Skunk signaled his three remaining thugs to move towards the stacks and Dooley.

"You sending your men to get me, Skunk? Is old Dooley too much for you to tackle alone? You afraid of Dooley, Skunk? Owls eat Skunks, you know. Whoooo Whooooooo."

As Skunk's men paused their assault of the stacks to laugh, rage ignited Skunk's reddening face and he again released Elizabeth, who fell sprawling to the floor, as he charged the stacks himself.

From out of the stacks the tall, gangly hermit shot, hooting, then squawking as he collided into the onrushing Skunk. The unhurt though startled biker was stopped in his tracks, and was soon cursing when his massive fists swung at Dooley but connected only with empty air. Dooley ducked and bounced away nimbly, stumbling awkwardly towards another biker, his long thin arms cart wheeling in a blur.

From her spot on the floor Elizabeth watched in astonishment as Dooley bounced off the second biker and stumbled back towards a third biker. The second biker had been caught on the chin by a blazing Dooley whirly uppercut, but paused only a moment before angrily resuming his pursuit. Meanwhile Skunk stepped forward and swung a mighty blow at Dooley as the skinny hermit swept by him, but the blow was a moment late, and instead struck the second biker in the stomach.

As the stricken biker sank moaning to the ground Dooley bounced flailing fists off the face of the third biker, who stumbled back noisily against a stack of books, more surprised than hurt.

For a few wondrous seconds it seemed like Dooley could dodge and befuddle the bikers indefinitely, until two of them seized Dooley by each of his skinny arms and roughly hauled the squirming young man to face their leader.

"I been looking forward to this for a long time, nature boy!" growled Skunk, as he poised to strike the helpless Dooley. A moment later Elizabeth kicked him between his legs from behind, and he doubled over and cried out in pain.

The cursing biker spun and again caught Elizabeth around her neck, and drew back his huge right fist to strike her. "Another big mistake, bitch!" he growled, in a deep, threatening voice.

The blow never came. Around Skunk's right wrist impossibly large fingers and thumb appeared, while an immense red arm locked firmly under Skunk's chin. "Bigger mistake Skunk!" said an even deeper voice.

Skunk tightened his choking grip on Elizabeth's poor neck instead of releasing her. More pain shot through her, but by now she instinctively had his choking thumb in her own two hands, and as she twisted it back with all her strength, she kicked her right foot out and up hard, and saw and felt it connect solidly with Skunk's anatomy again exactly as she had intended.

Released again, she fell awkwardly to the floor as the moaning, cursing Skunk, defying gravity, was lifted up off the floor and away from her, while his flailing feet and free arm struck out harmlessly at air and bookshelves. Elizabeth sat up and got her first clear look at her new rescuer, as he literally carried Skunk out of the stacks and into the open.

It was the most enormous man she had ever seen in her life! Long graying hair held by a faded red bandanna framed a stern, weather worn, age chiseled face with startling, piercing blue eyes. He wore loose fitting hand-spun gray wool shirt and trousers that covered him from head to moccasin-clad toes, except for his huge bare arms. It was none other than Great Two Bears from the Reservation!

At the same time, there was a blur of activity taking place behind Two Bears and Skunk as yet another new rescuer, aided by Dooley, was taking on Skunk's gang. The four motorcycle men had muscular bulk and numbers, but the tall young stranger that wore glasses had speed and power, and diversions offered by wildly flailing, indomitable Dooley Simple.

Elizabeth could hardly believe her eyes. The stranger effortlessly blocked a dozen wicked biker blows and delivered lightning fast punches in return that incapacitated one after another of the bikers. In seconds all four bikers were sprawling on the floor around the pair, moaning in pain as they nursed bruised jaws and stomachs, and struggled to regain their senses.

Meanwhile Skunk struggled mightily to free himself from Two Bears. "Hold still Skunk," the big Indian ordered, "or I'll have to break your arm, and you know how I hate violence." The Indian had Skunk's right arm pinned behind him, and was using it and the chokehold to suspend his smaller squirming adversary entirely off the ground. The strength required had to be fantastic, Elizabeth realized.

Skunk's response was to elbow the big Indian repeatedly with his now free left-arm, while spewing obscenities and flailing away at the air in frustration with his feet.

In response Two Bears heaved Skunk higher with a jerk that broke the biker's arm with an audible snap, then released him so that he fell roughly onto the hard, tile-clad, concrete floor. Even as Skunk roared in pain and rage, in one smooth motion he rolled, bounded up, and pulled a big switchblade knife from his belt with his good left arm, while his broken right arm hung limply. "You die now, Chief!" he screamed, as he faced the gigantic Indian.

Two Bears and hadn't been idle either. He had circled around Skunk to place himself between Elizabeth and her attacker, and now he quickly drew from its scabbard a hunting knife with a foot-long blade that dwarfed that of Skunk's knife. "Not this day, I think," he said calmly.

Skunk looked about for his men for help, but they were all lying groggily at the feet of Dooley, who was watching them closely. Worse, the dangerous stranger that had so easily decked all of his men was slowly making his way towards him.

Skunk charged at Two Bears screaming, but the Indian's left foot shot up and into Skunk's stomach with blinding speed, knocking the motor cycle man back and down on his butt, where he sat moaning and gasping for breath for a few seconds before rising again with the knife, unsteady but apparently game to attack again.

Jake Barns entered the room with pistol already in hand. The Sheriff sized up the situation quickly, and ignoring Skunk, smiled and took careful aim at Two Bears!

"Hold it Sheriff!" the stranger cried out, as he moved to stand in front of Two Bears. "This is the good guy. That other guy is the bad guy." He pointed at Skunk. Seeming to notice the stranger for the first time, the lawman's smile disappeared, but his gun was still pointed at Two Bears and the stranger.

"That whore bitch and her fucking Indian friend attacked me, Jake," said Skunk, surprising everyone with his colorful command of language. "The big red bastard broke my arm and pulled that knife on me." He casually folded his switch blade and put it inside a pocket, as his mocking grin returned.

"That so?" said Barns, nodding. "That sounds like armed assault to me. You pressing charges, Skunk?"

"That's bullshit sheriff," Elizabeth stated. "I'll be the one pressing charges. Janet too. And by the way, Skunk, if that's the name of this scum bag, pulled his knife out first."

The Sheriff grinned. "I didn't see it that way; so it's my word against yours."

"And mine," said the stranger sternly. "End of story."

"I'll be judge of that, stranger," admonished the Sheriff. "This Indian is a known trouble maker. I saw him and her and you beating up on poor Skunk myself when I came in, and then I saw the savage pull a knife on poor unarmed Skunk to finish him off."

"That's a lie," said Elizabeth angrily, as she stepped towards the lawman.

Two Bears lowered a huge hand to restrain her by the shoulder while the stranger spoke again in a calm voice. "Now it seems to me that you each may have a complaint here Miss, you and Mr. Skunk both, one's word against the other's."

"An Indian's word ain't worth shit in this town," explained the Sheriff. "Or Dooley's or a stranger's either. And anyway, since I seen it Skunk's way myself, it's going to be my word and Skunk's against mostly yours, Miss Winters."

"And mine, Sheriff," said Janet, still tied to the chair, surprising everyone including herself. "I saw it Miss Winter's way, and I'm willing to testify to that. And to the fact that Skunk and his men tied me up and held me against my will. That's kidnapping!"

Barns lowered his gun and stood thinking silently, clearly outnumbered and again uncertain.

"Ain't you going to at least arrest that red bastard, Jake?" asked Skunk. "He broke my damn arm! That wasn't part of our plan!"

"Shut up, you idiot!" hissed Barns.

"So then, you all plan on pressing charges, do you?" asked the stranger. "The two young ladies against Mr. Skunk, and Mr. Skunk against the Indian? Sounds very awkward. Lots of publicity of the wrong sort, perhaps. Maybe we should all just all calm down and forget the whole thing."

"Nobody charged with anything?" said Barns slowly, clearly considering it.

"Hey, I ain't forgetting nothing," said Skunk, vehemently.

The stranger turned to regard Skunk coolly. "I strongly advise that you do." This time here was a steely edge to his statement.

"Unlikely," replied Skunk, with a sneer.

"Me either," Elizabeth stated flatly. "But I'll drop my charges if Janet is alright and she agrees, and if Skunk drops his. What about it Janet? Are you alright?"

The librarian was still tied to her chair. "I'm not hurt, just scared and mad as hell. But I'll drop my charges if you'll drop yours, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded, and the stranger returned his confident gaze the Sheriff. "Will Skunk drop his charges?" He stared steadily into Barns' eyes, ignoring Skunk completely.

The Sheriff nodded slowly, holstering his gun as he coldly met the stranger's steely-eyed stare. "Seems to me there's just been a little private misunderstanding here. Good thing I happened by, or it could have gotten out of hand. Miss Winters, if you stay in the area and hang out with troublemakers like this Indian, something more serious is still bound to happen to you. Do you understand me, Miss Winters?"

"I understand that I'll 'hang out' with anyone I want to, Sheriff."

"Your funeral," he replied, smiling wickedly. He turned to stare up at the big Indian. "You're a long damn way off the Reservation, Chief. I'd remedy that quick if I were you."

"Sounds like real good advice," the giant red man replied easily. "The Reservation library is better anyway. Less riff-raff."

The Sheriff snickered but turned to consider the stranger. "And you might just want to leave this county altogether. Do it now. You're poking into local trouble that's none of your damn business."

"Nope, I have personal business near here that I'll be seeing to, at Goth Mountain."

Barn's jaw dropped. "The hell you say! Hey, are you BIA or something?"

"Bureau of Indian Affairs? They've always kept out of Reservation business," said the stranger.

"So what would your business be then?"

"Family business. I'm Johnny Goth."

"Johnny!" yelled Dooley, laughing and running to hug Johnny like a long lost brother. "I should-a knowed it." Johnny smiled and hugged back.

"Shit," muttered the sheriff, shaking his head in disbelief as he stared darkly at Johnny. Then without another word he turned and walked out, pushing the still complaining Skunk ahead of him, along with the four other beat-up bikers, who were helping to hold each other up and stumble out.

Dooley hugged and hugged his long-lost boyhood friend Johnny until his thin arms ached. "I always knowed you'd be back! And you growed up big and into a fighter just like Dooley!" When he finally let go of Johnny his jaw dropped and he stared with puzzlement at Two Bears. Then the big silly Dooley grin reformed. "You heard me call for help in my head, didn't you, little furry friend? You and Johnny heard me!"

"We were passing through town and heard a ruckus," said Two Bears, smiling and nodding but not volunteering any details.

Elizabeth had just untied Janet, and upon hearing Two Bears described as little and furry and his help being obtained so strangely by Dooley she exchanged a very puzzled look with her friend Janet, who could only shrug. This was Dooley Simple talking, after all.

"You found Johnny," said Dooley, grinning at Two Bears and slapping him on the back. "I knew you'd find him! Two Bears will be glad to see both you guys." Dooley, finally realizing he was saying things that he shouldn't, clasped a hand over his mouth.

The big Indian smiled again and turned from Dooley in an attempt to dismiss his remarks. "Excuse me, Miss Winters, we all forget our manners. Johnny, this is Elizabeth Winters. She teaches school on our Reservation and is a true friend to the Tribe. Elizabeth, this is of course Johnny Goth."

Elizabeth smiled up at Johnny. "My rescuer and my landlord." And a handsome one at that, she noted, and not a bit disheveled after beating up four brawny bikers and talking down an angry sheriff.

"Landlord?" asked Johnny, puzzled.

"I rent a room in your house."

"In my house?" Johnny knew he didn't own a house, or have an attractive young lady living in it. And indeed, this young lady was very attractive, even though a bit disheveled herself after her tussle with Skunk. To Johnny she seemed especially attractive for having the courage to face up to Skunk and the hostile sheriff.

"You're the Goth heir, right?" Elizabeth asked.

"Heir? What about Mort?"

Elizabeth looked up at Two Bears, her smile instantly gone. "I'm sorry. You didn't tell him?"

Great Two Bears shook his head sadly and sighed. The big man suddenly looked very tired. "No, I hadn't told him yet."

"Told me what?" asked Johnny.

"Your Uncle Mort has gone to another place," stated Two Bears.

"What?"

"He's gone."

"Mort left Goth Mountain?"

"He died a few days ago," explained Elizabeth. "I'm so very sorry."

Johnny staggered as realization hit him. Mort dead? After all these years of separation, Johnny had returned too late, missing his Uncle Mort by only a few days?

Two Bears rested his huge hands on Johnny's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, Johnny."

"How could it be worse?"

"Maybe there's still hope, like with your father, of bringing him back."

"You guys are spooking me out big time," said Janet.

Two Bears shook his gray-haired head. "There is much to talk about, Johnny, when you have returned home. But right now you should stay here in the library and talk with the ladies, while I go home with Dooley to rest. I am very tired. You should push on to Goth Mountain tonight without me, Johnny, while I rest. Did I mention that I'm feeling very tired?"

Indeed, Two Bears seemed to be wilting, his great shoulders drooping and his silver-haired head bowed. He mischievously smiled for a moment and winked at Johnny. As Johnny watched, Two Bear's face seemed to lengthen, and his ears thinned and pointed outwards from a face that began to grow hair.

Suddenly comprehending that his friend Ned was too exhausted to maintain his Two Bears form, and could at any moment morph back into a little goat-man or a Sasquatch in front of Elizabeth and Janet, Johnny positioned himself so that hopefully Two Bears could not be seen clearly by the two young ladies. "Miss Winters, could you tell me what happened to Mort? I haven't been in contact with him for many years."

"Nobody seems sure what happened. Two days ago I found him dead in his bed. Officially it was natural causes."

"Was he sick?"

"Not that I know of. He seemed very active and healthy to me only a few days earlier." She shifted to the left and right to see around Johnny and watch Dooley and Two Bears go out the library door. Meanwhile Johnny also shifted about, almost as though he was trying to block her view of the exiting pair on purpose.

Despite Johnny's counter-measures, she managed to glimpse the huge Indian leaning heavily on skinny Dooley. The towering Shaman seemed then to actually become shorter and to shrink in size, becoming much shorter than Dooley. Or maybe he was just ducking very low as he went through the door; that had to be what it was. "Is Two Bears alright?" she asked.

"Just tired; he'll be fine with Dooley," Johnny explained. "Mort was a very old man. I suppose that natural causes would be the obvious explanation."

"That's the official explanation, anyway. What did Two Bears mean, about bringing Mort back?"

"I don't know. Talk to his spirit, maybe. Tribal Shaman stuff."

"I'm sorry! Your father is deceased then also?"

"My Mom thinks so. Mort and the Tribe weren't so sure, when it happened. He just seemed to disappear on Goth Mountain. But if he were alive he would have returned by now, I'm sure. That's what Mom believes. Anyway, that was a long time ago."

"Didn't you have glasses on when you got here?"

Johnny felt his face and was surprised to find that his glasses were indeed missing. The bikers hadn't laid a hand on him; his glasses probably flew off his face while he was dodging their attempts. In the heat of the moment, his vision had corrected itself without him even noticing that he had a problem. "Yes, but I can make-do without them."

Janet, who had been inspecting the damage done to her library, appeared with Johnny's badly broken glasses in her hand. The lenses were quite thick, Elizabeth noted.

"Thanks," said Johnny, smiling as he placed the twisted and shattered pieces into a shirt pocket.

"Where do you live, Mr. Goth?" asked Elizabeth. "Where did you drive in from just now?"

"The Los Angeles area. We've been on the road since this morning."

"Two Bears couldn't have found you there, I saw him on the Reservation earlier this morning."

"He found me by phone. We just met up here in town a few minutes ago."

"I see," said Elizabeth. She had never heard of the big Shaman using a phone or leaving the Reservation. As far as she knew, Chief George had the only phone on the Reservation. Tribal police used hand-held radios but no phones. No one on the Reservation had a cell phone except her, and her old cell phone was simply a phone.

"A minute ago Dooley was talking as if Two Bears wasn't Two Bears," noted Janet.

"I haven't seen Dooley in years, but I guess he still talks strange sometimes," explained Johnny.

Elizabeth nodded. Dooley was a strange one all right, and sometimes hard to understand, but there was always some sort of deep truth behind whatever he said. She was beginning to understand that talking to Johnny was a lot like talking to someone of the Tribe; all his explanations were a bit vague and curved away from being straight answers. "I suppose so. It's just that while teaching on the Reservation, I heard strange stories, especially about Goth Mountain, Two Bears, and your Uncle Mort."

Johnny's smile returned. "When I was a kid I loved to hear their stories, especially stories about Two Bears. I'm really looking forward to returning to the Mountain."

"Me too," agreed Elizabeth. "It has been a very long day. I should drive Janet home and get myself to my apartment here in town. With your return, I don't suppose I'm needed at the cabin anymore."

"You shouldn't stay in town at all, Elizabeth," said Janet.

"I agree," said Johnny. "I don't think you should stay in town with Skunk and that sheriff possibly still gunning for you. Perhaps you should continue staying at the Goth cabin, until this business is all straightened out."

"OK, you talked me into it," agreed Elizabeth. Staying in the same house with Johnny Goth had a certain appeal, regardless of circumstances.

"Is that your truck outside?"

"It's Chief George's truck, but I'm using it."

"Wow, George Running Buck is Chief now? He was a close friend of my Dad. Did the truck have four flat tires when you drove it here?"

"Four flat tires? I don't think so."

"It does now, courtesy of our biker friends, I imagine. Don't you worry about it though; the Tribe can take care of it tomorrow. Why don't I drive both you and Janet home now in my car, Miss Winters?"

"Can you see well enough to drive?"

The tall young man grinned. "No problem at all."

"Alright then, but only if you call me Elizabeth."

"Gladly Elizabeth, if you call me Johnny."

There was a long pause, as Johnny and Elizabeth stared deeply into each other's eyes.

"OK, let's go then," said Janet, breaking the spell. "I appreciate the ride home, but it looks like the Fensters are actually after you two, not me."

"The Fensters? Say, is Frank Fenster that Skunk guy's real name?" asked Johnny. "Seems to me I remember a big nasty Frank Fenster teenager when I was a kid. He hung out with Small Bear, the nephew of Two Bears."

"Small Bear is Tribe Police Chief now," said Elizabeth. "Is Skunk related to Bill Fenster?"

"Yup," added Janet. "I forgot that you're a newcomer here, Elizabeth. Frank Fenster, better known lately as Skunk, is old Bill Fenster's nephew. That's why that biker bastard can get away with just about anything in this town."

Elizabeth whistled. She had just had the honor of bloodying the lip and kicking the balls of the nephew of the richest man in town.

Meanwhile, Johnny was wondering what other surprises awaited him. Mort was dead? George was Tribe Chief? Small Bear was the Tribe Police Chief? There had obviously been a lot of changes that he would need to catch up on.

"I don't think you need fear retribution tonight, Elizabeth," said Janet. "Skunk and Barns will go whining back to their boss for their next instructions."

"Then you agree this thing isn't over?" asked Johnny.

"No it's not. This is only the beginning for you two, I fear," said Janet. "The Fensters won't stop until they have the Goth place, that's the word around town."

Janet stopped talking and the trio stopped walking. They had just exited the library could see by the light of the streetlight and moon Johnny's old Tempo that was parked nearby. Inside it a cat could be heard howling in terror as it leapt furiously about inside, looking for an escape route. Beside the old Ford a tall bearded stranger dressed in black stood silently, smiling at them, and in particular at Johnny.

"Good evening," said the stranger, in a deep, even voice. "I was taking my evening walk and I heard a commotion. Is there trouble?"

"Not anymore," said Johnny, "and we aren't looking for any." For some reason he immediately felt uneasy about this stranger. The man was as tall as he was, and heavier by at least twenty pounds, but it wasn't just his size or sudden appearance in the night that set Johnny on edge. It seemed to Johnny that this man looked, felt, and even smelled evil. He had never encountered real evil before, but now somehow he knew what it was. There was a feel to this man that was very wrong.

The man grinned, flashing teeth that may have been a little too large, white and pointed. Perhaps it was a trick of the street-lights, but his eyes seemed to glow red. "Trouble need not be sought to be found, young man. My name is Dark." He held out a gloved hand to Johnny.

"I'm Johnny Goth," replied Johnny as he reluctantly grasped the other man's hand. Then he gasped as waves of pain and nausea swept into him through his arm, which instantly seemed to be burning up. At the same time Dark's eyes, which were locked with his, definitely glowed bright red, and his toothy smile transformed into a menacing, beastly snarl. Johnny instinctively tried to draw back his hand, but it was caught fast in Dark's crushing, numbing grip.

In response Johnny quickly locked his own intense steely-eyed gaze with Dark's blazing stare and willed life and strength back into his arm and body, until his own grip equaled that of Dark. For long moments the two men struggled, Johnny unsuccessfully pulling with all his strength and Dark similarly trying to dislodge Johnny but not budging him an inch. A grin slowly formed on Johnny's face as Dark snarled with frustration. Dark was inhumanly strong, but so was Johnny Goth.

Suddenly a booming flash of light tore the hands apart and both men were pushed back a dozen paces by the impact. Johnny recovered nimbly and took a defensive stance in front of Elizabeth and Janet, poised like a kick-boxer.

Dark, staggered but still standing, and clearly surprised, stared for a moment at his still smoking arm and glove, and then laughed lustily. "Quite a handshake you have, young man. We'll need to get together again very soon, definitely. Right now I have other pressing business." Never taking his eyes off Johnny, He bowed towards Elizabeth and Janet. "Ladies," he said, in a mocking tone. Then he stepped backwards and to the side, seeming not so much to disappear into the darkness as to himself become a mere shadow that vanished into thin air.

Are you all right, Johnny?" asked Elizabeth, after a moment of astonished staring at where Dark had been.

"I'm fine, I think," said Johnny, flexing his arm and fingers. Feeling was just returning to them. He extended his senses and confirmed that the evil presence known as Dark was indeed rapidly leaving the area. "Who was that guy?"

"Never saw him before," said Janet, "and I try to keep tabs on all the local folk."

"What was that explosion?" asked Elizabeth.

"I'm not sure," said Johnny, but he put his hand inside his pants pocket and found that his father's watch was too hot to touch with his bare fingers. The heat of it against his thigh, through the cloth of his pants pocket, was just barely tolerable. The watch had protected him, he realized, by separating him and Dark. "I can tell you this much. That man is pure evil. We better get going before something else happens."

Janet lived very nearby and was home in minutes. Johnny next drove Elizabeth to her apartment, which was a half mile further. Johnny half expected to be again attacked by a motorcycle gang, the police, or Dark, but nothing materialized, which was just as well. Too much was already happening. Mort's death, the Fenster conflict, and now a mysterious evil stranger named Dark, had made an already momentous home-coming altogether too eventful. Most of all he felt the loss of Mort. Mort was very close to him when he was a boy, almost as close as his father.

Then there was Elizabeth. There was no denying that he felt attracted to her, but of course he was engaged to Angela, he reminded himself.

Johnny contemplated the day's events as he drove. Moocher, meanwhile, occupied Elizabeth. The frightened tomcat immediately took to her, and found warm refuge on her lap. Soon he was purring up a storm as Elizabeth stroked his long fur. Johnny was envious of the cat, and agreed totally with the animal's positive assessment of Elizabeth.

"I forgot to mention that I also have a cat, Johnny," said Elizabeth. "She's at my apartment here in town, and I had planned to bring her with me to Goth Mountain tonight. That could be a problem. Sometimes cats don't get along together at all."

"They'll be OK together, I think. Yours is female, I take it, and Moocher is male. That should count for a lot. Besides, there doesn't appear to be any choice. She's your family, right? Like Moocher is mine."

"Right. It's nice to meet someone who understands that."

"Ditto," agreed Johnny.

Elizabeth's head was spinning with many questions, including ones about Johnny Goth. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" she asked.

"Fight?"

"Those four huge bikers you just beat the crap out of. Remember them?"

"No big deal. I have some pretty fast reflexes, that's all."

"Did you take Kung Fu lessons? Are you a cop or a Green Beret or something?"

Johnny smiled. He couldn't reveal to her that some of his blows were actually invisible ones delivered psychically, and that he had pulled his punches to avoid serious damage to the bikers. "No, I'm mainly a process engineer, but I do like Jackie Chang movies."

"Me too, but I couldn't take on a biker gang without even breathing hard."

Johnny shrugged. In truth, he too was astonished by his performance. He had never been in a fight before.

Elizabeth was also going to ask him how he and Two Bears knew that something was happening at the library, but then they arrived at her apartment.

When they entered Johnny insisted that he precede Elizabeth by a few paces and search for intruders. He wasn't just looking for bad guys though, she soon suspected. His eyes were trying to take in everything he could of her little apartment.

She didn't mind, though she was concerned that he'd find unsightly skeletons in her closet before she even had a chance to know this strange and attractive man. She liked to take things slow and cautious in relationships. Then again they were strangers, she reminded herself, despite their recent experience together, and not on any sort of date. However, she sensed that somehow they were already in some sort of relationship; they just hadn't figured out exactly what it was yet.

"You painted this?" Johnny asked, as he studied one of her wall-hung landscape paintings closely.

She had been examining Johnny closely; and concluding again that he was indeed very handsome. He exuded grace, strength and self-assurance. She knew one thing from the moment she met Johnny Goth; there was plenty of physical attraction between them, at least on her side. So much so that it scared her, and she almost missed his painting question altogether. "It's my hobby. Especially since I started teaching, and have a little more money for art materials. I'm not very good at it though."

"No, they're wonderful. A nice compromise between expressionism and realism. Too many folks nowadays don't have an eye for beauty and can't do a blasted thing with their hands." He walked through the rooms looking for intruders, but also obviously examining paintings, books, and knickknacks. His eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help smiling frequently. He liked her things, and he was fascinated that he did. He couldn't comprehend Angela's stuff at all. "You like trees then?"

"I absolutely love trees. The trees are one of the best things about living in this part of the country. There's almost no old-growth forest left though; it's one of my greatest fears that my paintings will outlive the trees that they depict."

He nodded solemnly. "This is logging country though, Elizabeth."

A dire suspicion shot through her just then. Could Johnny be a logger? "I'm for letting logging companies raise and harvest their own logs, but dead-set against clear-cutting or any logging at all of the few remaining old-growth forests. Those are simply too valuable to destroy. Especially the big old trees that are centuries old. They should be protected in parks."

"Just so tourists can gawk at them?"

"If gawking can be done without destroying the forest I'm not opposed to it, if it's kept under control. We humans need the forests; it nurtures our souls to see trees. And stars and mountains and whales and lots of things, though I'm particularly partial to trees. But most of all, trees and lots of other things have a right to be here as much as we do, and have incredible value unto themselves, far beyond any monetary or aesthetic value that we humans can possibly presume to assign to them. They're as much a part of God's universe as we are."

She stopped when she realized that she was soap-boxing.

"Good speech," remarked Johnny, smiling. "I can see that we agree on a lot of things. Is this photo your school kids? Some of them are wearing white-man clothes! The Reservation has certainly changed since I last saw it. What is that thing they're standing around?"

Elizabeth studied the big photo on the wall that Johnny was pointing at. "Yes, those are my students on the Reservation, and they're standing around my car."

Johnny looked closer. Now that he studied it carefully, the outlines of a tiny Geo Metro were recognizable, though only barely. Bold squares, lines, dots, and circles in rich-earthy shades of red, yellow, orange and brown covered everything except the windows. Here and there small animal figures were painted also, including bears, eagles, panthers, and deer. Some of the figures were three dimensional, sculptured in wood or clay, painted and then somehow attached to the car. "It's been all done up, Indian art style!"

"Right. My class sculpted and painted it. Can you read the license plate above the real license plate?"

"It says 'Artistic License' on it! Hey, I've heard of them, aren't they a band of rogue West Coast artists?"

"Right. The kids and I are members. Your friend Dooley showed up with the license and certificates of membership for all of us about a week after the car was done."

"Wow! Your car is a genuine work of art! What a fantastic idea!"

Elizabeth smiled. Most people were horrified at the very thought of a car being painted over by kids. "Not my idea. The kids did it while I wasn't looking. Your friend Dooley had something to do with it, I suspect."

"They must all really like you a lot, to do that to your car. But on to business. Where's your cat?"

The cat was shy of strangers, and Johnny was no exception. Though Johnny pretended not to know where the cat was, he could sense exactly where the animal had fled from the first moment he entered the apartment. It took Elizabeth several minutes to find Fluffy under her bed. He continued to examine the apartment while Elizabeth was in her bedroom, calming Fluffy and then packing a suitcase. "No TV?" he asked, surprised.

"I have a small one in the spare bedroom. Don't use it much, but there are some great nature shows on sometimes."

"Right. I'm partial to PBS myself," said Johnny. "No home computer either?"

"Not that you'd notice. I've got an old laptop in a drawer someplace that I hardly ever use. I'm sort of an old fashioned girl, I guess."

"Computers and technology are vastly overrated anyway," he agreed. "I can say that authoritatively because I have a computer and am somewhat of a technologist." In the kitchen he had noticed vegetables lying around: squash and beans, melons and tomatoes. "You prepare a lot of your own food?"

"Tastes better, and I enjoy doing it. Mostly vegetables; I avoid red meat. Do you like plants? I hear that Mort had a garden, but I haven't seen it yet."

Johnny smiled broadly. "Yes, I love plants, particularly tasty ones. We can see Mort's garden tomorrow; I'm sure it will be very impressive."

"Sounds good," she said, as she stepped into the living room carrying a huge suitcase with one hand and a cat-carrier and a big plastic bag full of odds and ends with the other. Without the truck, this would have to do for now. "We're ready to go," she announced. "I'm out of hands; could you carry the cat litter and box?" she nodded towards the litter box she had just emptied out, and a big bag of fresh litter.

"I'll bring the box, but that's the same brand of litter my cat Moocher uses, and I have at least fifty pounds of it in my trunk already. Can I carry something else for you?" He was amazed at how much she was carrying.

"Nope; I have to carry all of these at once or I'll be off-balance and fall over sideways. You can get the door though."

The phone rang. It had to be Aunt Heady, Elizabeth knew; she often called after the rates dropped. She was well cared for nowadays with a live-in friend and companion, but Elizabeth frequently spoke with her on the phone and visited her almost every weekend. She put down the suitcase and cat carrier and went back into the bedroom, leaving Johnny standing near the door with the empty litter box.

What should she tell her Aunt, she wondered? She didn't want to worry her, so even before she picked up the receiver she had decided that she'd skip the library episode. What should she say about meeting Johnny Goth and living at his house though?

"Miss Winters?" inquired a totally strange male voice. "This is Bill Fenster. I want to apologize for the little misunderstanding tonight."

It took her a moment to reply, for her anger to overcome shock and sudden fear. Janet was right; this whole business with Fenster wasn't over at all. "I was attacked by your nephew. That's more than a 'little' misunderstanding."

"It was simply a mistake; the boy is sorry. He gets a bit carried away sometimes, that's all. I'm a businessman Miss Winters, and on his own initiative Frank was merely trying to look after my interests. The lad actually has a heart of gold. If we can just come to an understanding, there will be no need for any more nasty situations. On the contrary, I can be quite generous to my friends. Very generous indeed." The words themselves were almost kind, but the under-tone was condescending and mocking, and the mind behind it cold, calculating and cruel.

"I already have an honest job and enough money, and plenty of friends."

"Of course. But maybe you would like a new car or a vacation? Purely as a result of honest work of course, nothing illegal. I fear that you may have gotten the wrong impression of me; I'm just an honest businessman out to make an honest living."

Honest businessman? She doubted it. Just the sound of this man's voice made her skin crawl. She had a habit of matching up animals with people that she met, and Bill Fenster was a weasel at best. "I still don't think I'd be interested; not after what happened tonight."

"You don't have to decide now. Just keep it in mind, that's all I ask for now," said the weasel.

"Why do you want the Goth place anyway? I hear that you're rich already." She asked the question for Johnny's benefit as much as hers; she had spoken loudly so that he was sure to hear the question and surmise whom she was speaking to. In response Johnny came to the bedroom door, now alert and attentive to the conversation Elizabeth was having. She felt reassured, knowing he was there.

"True, true; I confess to being successful, and I'm damn proud of it," continued Fenster. "But the Goths are a mystery, Miss Winters. Do you like mysteries? I sometimes do, but not here on my home turf. Here I want to know what's going on. I don't like surprises, you see."

"You're a control freak," she stated.

"Surely, and an opportunist. It may be that beyond all that lumber, the Goths, the Indians, and their mountain won't turn out to be of much interest to me after all, I simply don't know yet."

"What don't you know, Mr. Fenster?"

"What the Goths have been hiding all these years, besides their precious trees. Become close friends with Johnny and the Indians, Miss Winters. There are things that only the Goths and the Shaman know that I want to know. Find out what they're hiding besides trees, and help me get the Goth place, and I'll make you very rich. It's that simple."

"What if I don't care about being rich?"

He laughed. "Very unlikely. However, if you're really that rare sort of handicapped person, there might be something else that I can interest you in."

"Very unlikely."

"If you like Goth and his Indian friends, you might just want to save them."

"Save them from what? From you?"

"From themselves, ultimately. From their own stubbornness. Nice folks finish last, pure and simple. I'll get their land if I want it, one way or the other; or if it's not me, someone else like me will."

"So now you want me to save them? How?"

"You might be their only chance. Either convince me that what they have is worthless to me, or convince them that it's not worth their fighting me for it. Maybe if you get really friendly with Johnny, and let him know you'd like a big diamond necklace or something, he might want to sell. After all, he's been away from here for many years. Why should he care about a mountain? What do you think? Can he and you be bought off, if the price is right?"

"No. And I won't be your spy or agent, Mr. Fenster. Forget it."

"Like I said before, you don't have to decide now. Just keep it in mind; though also keep in mind that my generous offer can be withdrawn if the situation warrants it. In the meantime I'll keep Frank and the others out of your way, as a sign of good faith."

"Out of Johnny's way too?"

"Perhaps even out of his way for a very short time, while you two become better acquainted. You're an attractive young lady, Frank tells me. Maybe that will come in handy with Johnny. Deal?"

"What about Dark? Is he in this with you? Frank couldn't cut it so you brought in a freak?"

There was a pause. "Mr. Dark happens to be a business acquaintance of mine. A very dangerous one. But I might be able to influence him as well. What do you say?"

"No deals, no promises. End of discussion."

Fenster laughed. Not a cheerful, tension breaking laugh of hopeless resignation that acknowledged and rejoiced in some folly that had befallen him as reflects uncertainties inherent in the human condition and other universal realities; he was simply amused with her response, given that he ultimately had total control over the situation. One way or another, he would have domination over her, Johnny Goth, the whole damn universe. His universe.

How many people had this bastard ruined, Elizabeth wondered? She knew that it was not just a matter of money for Fenster; even more, it was a matter of power over other people, and of playing a high-stakes game to get more and more of it. Fenster was obviously enjoying himself.

What chance did innocents like her have? Resistance was futile, that's what he was ultimately telling her; and he got his kicks knowing that she knew that he knew it, and that there was ultimately nothing that she or anyone else could do to stop him. Fenster would get the Goth trees and whatever else the Goths had, and enjoy messing with people like her as he did it.

"Let's end this for now, Miss Winters," Fenster said coldly, all pretense of friendliness completely gone. "I'll be in touch. I think you'll change your mind when you see just how serious things can get. Just don't wait too long or there'll be nothing left to save. No-thing and no-one." He hung up.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shivering and feeling vulnerable as she sat on her bed. She had been more violated by old-man Fenster's phone call than she had been by his nephew in the library. The older Fenster hadn't even afforded her a good kicking opportunity.

"Are you all right?" Johnny asked. He stood in the bedroom doorway watching her. "That was old-man Fenster, wasn't it? Did he threaten you?"

"I'd say so. Me, you, and anyone else that gets in his way. He wanted to pay me to ensnare you with my womanly wiles."

Johnny laughed. "Sounds like a total waste of money. You're bound to ensnare men regardless."

"I am?" she asked, not quite sure at first if she had been insulted or complemented, but his laughter was infectious and she couldn't help returning his smile.

"I don't see how it could possibly be helped," added Johnny. "Ready to go?" He offered her a hand to help her up off the bed and she took it.

It was the first time they had touched, they both instantly realized, and it was as if the Earth suddenly shifted in its orbit perceptively, shaking it and them to their cores. She marveled at the cool, sure, gentle strength of his large hand, and he marveled at the warm, soft, smooth vibrancy of hers, and at how she could be so strong while also at the same time be so small, delicate and exquisite.

After she stood, they somehow still held hands, and they stood closely together while she looked up into his clear gray eyes and he in turn searched her blue ones, silently asking each other questions as old as time.

"Meeeooow," complained Fluffy loudly from his carrier. Hearts beat again, though more strongly and rapidly, and some level of objective thought returned. They were strangers. Eyes turned away shyly.

"Sure, let's go," she managed to say somehow without her voice sounding too squeaky, pulling away from him and retrieving the things she had been carrying before the phone call.

****

CHAPTER 6

HOMECOMING

As Dooley had discovered years earlier, Ned snored. Loud. Ned lay sleeping in Dooley's bed, making a terrible racket. Taking the shape of massive Great Two Bears and fighting Skunk had been exhausting for the little goat man, and he was too far from the Mountain to rapidly regain his strength.

Dooley lay on the floor nearby, dead tired himself and honestly trying to fall to sleep, but also fighting back a powerful giggle-fit. He was much too exhilarated to fall asleep; Johnny was back! Also, when he was exhausted Dooley always became very silly, much more silly than usual even, and was prone to uncontrollable fits of hysterical laughter that kept him awake, which in turn made him still sillier.

Downstairs on his cot, his Dad could surely hear Ned snoring, and would assume that it was him. The situation was so hilarious that Dooley has biting his right arm, using the pain to fight back hysteria.

It hadn't been easy, sneaking worn out little Ned past the Professor. Ned had stayed overnight with Dooley before, but never while his father was home. Indeed, the hairy goat man fit in well with Dooley's collection of interestingly colored rocks, abandoned bird nests, pinecones, wax coated leaves, recovering little forest critters healing in their boxes and cages, and other Dooley projects.

Pop's key projects involved tracking down old legends. What would he say, Dooley wondered, if he knew that a creature of legend was actually sleeping in his own shop right now? Trying to imagine his face if Pop were to see Ned in action, Dooley fought back more giggles.

The bedroom door suddenly opened with a loud creaking sound. Dooley felt sure that the jig was up. He next expected to hear his father's voice, demanding to know who the hairy little guy snoring in the bed was.

But the shadowy figure that stood in the doorway was far too tall and menacing to be his father, and had red, glowing eyes, and a smile that exposed white fangs of inhuman proportions. With a shock, Dooley recognized Dark!

Dooley's jaw dropped open and it seemed like his heart stopped beating. He had completely forgotten about Dark! Earlier he was going to warn the Tribe but then that library business with Skunk happened and Johnny returned, and then he came home with Ned and he had simply forgotten! Dooley started to stutter the same Tribal chants of power that had helped defeat Dark earlier, but the terrified lad barely started before Dark, falling down on him like an ebony avalanche, knocked him senseless with an impossibly hard fist.

****

Across town, to the great relief of Elizabeth, Moocher and Fluffy immediately hit it off. Johnny had initially calmed them, of course, then simply let nature take its course. Within minutes Moocher sat quietly beside Fluffy's carrier on the back seat of the Tempo, in which Fluffy lay peacefully.

Johnny found that Elizabeth had to give him directions to reliably drive from town to the Goth place, though even by moonlight he recognized much that he saw and was gradually reconstructing his childhood understanding of the area. "I recognize this place too!" he frequently said, with growing excitement.

Other traffic disappeared and roads narrowed and degenerated from pot-holed asphalt to pot-holed tarred stone, until they were finally driving on an old, narrow dirt/gravel path. The drive to the Goth cabin was a dream come true, he was traveling back to a happy time in his life, a time when he and his parents lived happily together and his whole family spent entire summers in a magic place. Johnny looked forward to seeing everything in the daytime, though his night vision was much better than that of a normal human.

In the moonlight, the dark shapes of hundreds of huge rotting tree stumps dominated the landscape. Johnny viewed the remains of each old stump painfully and with sudden pang of guilt. He was employed at a box factory, where the remains of many such trees were used. He had always been a conservationist and against logging old-growth forest, but it had been years since he had seen the devastation it caused first-hand.

They drove past numerous short side roads that fanned out over the valley; these were now deserted and overgrown with brush, alien weeds, and stunted saplings. Massive trucks and other logging equipment had once used these paths to cut and remove fallen giants; the stream was far too small to float the great logs, even at spring thaw. An old sign at the entry of one of the side roads read 'Fenster Logging', reminding Johnny and Elizabeth of the night's disturbing events, while confirming that Fenster had gotten rich through the rape of this land.

Down through the valley floor flowed a lively stream, doggedly followed by the little dirt road. Even with his enhanced vision he couldn't see it very well, but through his open car window Johnny could hear the dancing waters, and the clatter of stones being washed gradually towards the distant sea, along with choruses of peeping spring frogs. Memories came flooding back; as a child he and his friends had spent many happy hours in the stream.

Occasionally the road crossed the stream by means of stout appearing but alarmingly ancient wood-timber bridges.

Johnny could remember exploring many of them as a child, with Dooley and with Black Hawk, his closest Tribal friend. Johnny could almost feel the cold, clear water rush over his feet. Through the car window came damp spring air, pungently rich with the musky odor of earth and life, and the mysterious rotting stuff that snags and collects under old bridges.

There were only a few more miles to go, but the dirt road seemed to go on forever, with Johnny constantly swerving to avoid the deepest ruts and largest rocks. Elizabeth marveled at his ability to do so, given only the limited illumination offered by moonlight and the old Tempo's dim headlights.

At last they encountered a final fork in the road. An old weather-beaten wood sign announced that the Tribe's Reservation was located up the left road-fork, which appeared to be overgrown with bushes, while the rusty old Goth mailbox identified the right fork, which quickly terminated at a stout wooden gate that blocked the Goth driveway. Johnny's driveway, now that Mort was gone.

Johnny climbed out of the car and stepped towards the fence. Everything was as he remembered it as a child, though everything now seemed a bit smaller. Not much smaller though. Gigantic old growth forest towered beyond the log fence, dwarfing the Tempo and humans.

Something was just outside the fence that didn't belong though. Silently sitting among Fenster's rotting stumps were a dozen monstrous shapes that Johnny didn't recognize. He recovered a flashlight from his glove compartment and turned it on the mysterious objects, and was shocked to discover enormous flat-bed trucks, cranes, bulldozers, and machines with massive grasping jaws and cutting blades in the front.

"Fudge; that's logging equipment!" he cursed.

"I didn't even notice them earlier," said Elizabeth, who had joined him. "No wonder the Tribe is up in arms. Fenster obviously means to cut down your forest as soon as he can."

As Johnny stepped towards the gate to unlatch it, an abrupt swish-thunk sound stopped him short, as an arrow suddenly appeared in the log next to the latch.

"Stop," said a voice authoritatively from the darkness. It was a voice that Elizabeth recognized.

"Black Hawk!" she said loudly. "It's me, Elizabeth. And this is Johnny Goth."

An excited murmuring broke out all around them, from the shadowy forest. From the direction of the first voice a husky young man in Tribal police uniform stepped into the moonlight, bow in hand, staring intently at Johnny. "Is it truly you?" he asked, in a hushed voice.

"It is I, White Wolf, returned to my Tribe and my good friend Black Hawk at last," announced Johnny loudly.

"Aiiiiii," cried Black Hawk joyfully, as he dropped his bow to the ground and dashed full-tilt with open arms at Johnny, almost knocking him to the ground. As the two laughing men stood locked together, arms around each other, a dozen more braves broke from the trees and piled onto Johnny and Black Hawk, hooting, whooping, laughing and crying with joy.

Suddenly a silver haired giant strode from shadows. The Tribe braves quieted and parted in deference to him, clearing a path to Johnny, who had been knocked to his knees, but was grinning widely as he looked up at the newcomer. The huge man reached down and grasped Johnny under his arms and lifted him high above his head as though he were a small child.

"Wolf Cub!" cried Two Bears, in a booming voice.

Johnny Smiled. No one had called him Wolf Cub in fourteen years.

Around them, braves shouted, danced and laughed anew. Two Bears shook Johnny playfully, spun several times around with Johnny held high, and then dropped him into his huge arms for a titanic bear-hug. The hug went on and on, the great muscles of the arms of Two Bears rippling in the moonlight, Johnny's legs swinging, his feet dangling off the ground.

Finally Two Bears released him and stood Johnny before him, holding him by both shoulders and stooping down to look him in the eye. "Welcome home, Johnny Goth. It is so very good to see you here, after all these years."

"It is very good to see you, Great Two Bears."

"But you were with each other just a couple of hours ago at the library," noted a puzzled Elizabeth.

"The library?" asked Two Bears, puzzlement also in his voice.

"Recall that Elizabeth had trouble at the town library tonight with a man named Skunk, and a sheriff named Barns," explained Johnny.

"I was rescued by Johnny and Dooley, and also by you, Two Bears," said Elizabeth. "Don't you remember? Are you all right? We thought you went to Dooley's place to rest."

"And to meet Dooley's friend Ned," added Johnny.

Two Bears smiled. "Ned, of course! You see Elizabeth, this is the first time that Johnny is here on his home ground. It had to be here that I would greet him properly." He looked at Johnny silently for a few moments, before returning his attention to Elizabeth. "Don't worry Elizabeth, everything is all right. Yes, Johnny?"

Johnny smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, Elizabeth. Right now I'm just glad to be home. Can we go to the cabin? It has been a very long day."

Johnny and Elizabeth returned to the car and drove slowly up the driveway, escorted by most of the braves at first, but they gradually disappeared into the trees, presumably to resume their guard duty, except for Two Bears, who walked behind the car, grinning.

Johnny was himself grinning ear to ear, eyes bright and taking everything in as it was illuminated by headlights; each precious tree, bush, and stony square foot of driveway.

At one point, Johnny stopped the car, got out and walked into the trees, and ran his hands over the trunks of several of them. He paid particular attention to the smiley-face tree. Instead of rough, normal bark, his questing fingers encountered the smooth curves of grinning faces. "Dooley!" he exclaimed. He returned to the car still grinning and resumed the trek up the driveway.

"So, you remembered those trees with the faces and so forth on them?" asked Elizabeth.

"There are many more now than when last I was here."

"You have been gone far too long, White Wolf," remarked Two Bears, as Johnny climbed back into the Tempo.

Elizabeth knew better than to ask for an explanation.

At last, they were at the cabin.

Johnny shut off the car, got out, and stood silently, taking it all in, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and the memories. In the moonlight before him stood the huge old log cabin of his youth, while behind and around it towered giant trees, and above everything else the black bulk of Goth Mountain reached up into the moon-lit night sky.

It almost seemed like one of his dreams, but it was real. He closed his eyes and extended his thoughts, reaching out to it all, feeling everything around him, Goth Mountain, the Tribe, the Holy Forest, and its secrets. It was all here, all real. He could feel it in him and around him; the powerful life-force of the forest and Goth Mountain.

Elizabeth stood beside Johnny, watching him, trying to figure out all that was happening. She was fascinated with Johnny, and by what she had become involved with, but she felt increasingly frustrated. For almost two years she had given everything she had to these people, and they had accepted her and become her friends.

But only to a point. There were many secrets here that she couldn't even guess at, that much she knew. Johnny was one more great mystery, though a nice handsome one.

Two Bears was intensely watching both her and Johnny, she noticed, his gray eyes seeming to look inside her. What was the Tribe hiding from her, she wondered? What were they all hiding?

"Good night, cubs," said Two Bears, as he unlatched and opened the cabin door for his young friends. "We will talk long tomorrow." As Johnny and Elizabeth stepped inside, the big shaman silently stepped away and disappeared into shadow.

****

CHAPTER 7

LIFE-EATER

"I have seen your kind before," Dark said.

"And I have heard of you, Life Eater," replied Ned weakly. He was surprised he could talk. He certainly couldn't morph or move at all. It hurt simply to talk. Everything hurt. He managed to open one eye. What he saw confirmed what he could already smell and hear and feel. He was lying on the ground somewhere in the forest. Dark stood over him in the moonlight, a black, inhuman wolf-man shape with glowing red eyes.

"Life Eater," laughed Dark. "An apt name. I have not heard it in a very long time, shape shifter."

"Time means little to such as you."

"To the contrary, time means a great deal. The humans have spread and rutted their way to further dominance, since last I woke. They are generally weak but delicious and numerous. I have fed on them since waking and grown stronger. Alas your kind has, I believe, faded away in both numbers and in strength."

"Is that why you now dare to leave the shadows?"

"Unlike your kind, who cower hiding, I always go when and where I please. Now I hunger, goat man, and the humans are but poor fodder. I would consume your folk as well."

"We are not defenseless humans."

"Some of you have respectable powers, it is true, particularly the one-horned ones, but that only makes you better food and more interesting prey. Still, I have not survived for eons by not being cautious." He looked at where Dooley lay unconscious. "This human was taught words of power. By you?"

Ned remained silent.

"Still, it was far more than mere words. There was a touch of real power, power from himself but also power that he must have tapped from somewhere else. Power from your folk perhaps, or from something on the Mountain. But there is also unusual power in the human named Johnny Goth."

Dark bent down over the goat man, so that his red glowing eyes were only inches from Ned's, his hot, sickening, putrid breath inescapable. "There is a truly great power on the Mountain, shape shifter, a power that I have sought for eons which I mean to gain for myself."

"Finding it will do you no good; its power is lost to you forever."

With a snarl Dark slapped Ned's face so hard that at first he thought that he had killed him. The People are resilient, but not indestructible. But no, the shape-shifter was only unconscious again.

"Emmmuh," moaned Dooley, softly.

Dark smiled. The so-called People were ancient foes and prey of his, and more. They were once much closer, but he had evolved, and they had not. They were still mired in principles. It was doubtful that he would be able to extract more information from the shape-shifter. Any shape shifter would rather die than betray his kind to him, their ancient enemy, though the goat man might prove useful as a hostage. Perhaps he would let him live for a short while longer before consuming his life-force. The human that he had captured though, was another matter.

****

"It's exactly as I remember it," said Johnny, as he walked around the Goth cabin, lighting candles and examining everything, looking, touching and smelling. The two cats explored the cabin with greater caution, but seemed pleased at what they found. Johnny had mixed feelings. "Except there's no Uncle Mort."

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose family. This can't be the best of homecomings for you."

"I should have come sooner. Maybe things would be different if I had."

"Could'a, should'a, would'a. Life is full of that, there's no escaping it, Johnny Goth. Look at the bright side. Your friends are obviously happy that you're here now, and not mad at you about anything. You can only try to make the most of where you find yourself at the moment and go on from there. Plan to do the best you can from here and now."

Johnny sighed and smiled. "Thanks for the wisdom Elizabeth. It has been a very long day. Why don't we get some rest now, then get up early and make the most of where we find ourselves in the morning?"

After Elizabeth paid a short visit to the outhouse, she and Fluffy retreated to their room. Johnny prepared to bunk down on the ancient living room sofa after seeing that his goldfish and the cats were comfortable, for he didn't feel ready to claim Mort's bedroom. He wasn't ready to sleep just yet, however. Too much had happened, and it was all churning around in his head.

Including his meeting Elizabeth. Despite everything else that was happening, his thoughts kept returning to her. He had never met anyone like her. She was smart, caring, strong, and beautiful. Every time he encountered her he liked her more.

He was the Goth now though, and had pressing responsibilities to attend to. There was too much he needed to know, things that he should have learned over these last 14 years from his father, his uncle Mort, and Great Two Bears. He reached out with his mind until his thoughts telepathically touched those of another seeking mind. A powerful, more well-trained mind.

" _You still remember much, White Wolf. Your thoughts are clear_ ," pathed Two Bears.

" _There is so much I do not know; so much I have missed from being away for too long_."

" _Now that you have come home there will be time for you to learn everything. There are pressing problems now though. Big ones._ "

" _Fenster and his machines at the gates._ "

" _And perhaps worse things. Tell me about the evil one you met._ "

" _The man calls himself Dark._ "

" _Not a man. I have heard that name. He is an ancient enemy of the People, very powerful, and very evil. The People call him the Life Eater. He only pretends to be human, when it suits him to move around humans as a wolf among sheep. Over several days I have sensed his evil presence nearby._ "

" _Here_?"

" _Not in our holy places, not yet. But he grows bolder. When he feels more certain, he will come_."

" _More certain of what?_ "

" _More certain of what he faces, including you and me. You and I are dangerous prey. Tell me of your encounter with him._ "

" _We shook hands, and I could feel a power trying to consume me. Then the watch pushed him away._ "

" _That is why Mort gave you your father's watch, to protect you as well as to empower and teach you._ "

" _What is the watch?_ "

" _Much more than it seems, of course. You are old enough to understand now, and you are the Goth. I will explain all of it to you tomorrow. Tell me, is your Father's image still on the watch, along with yours?_ "

" _Yes, though both of our images age. What does it mean?_ "

" _Perhaps it means hope. Tomorrow I will explain to you the relationship between the Goths, the Tribe, the People, the secret of the Goth watches and my knife, and the great secrets of the Mountain. When you understand your place in all these things, together we will deal with Dark and Fenster._ "

" _First thing in the morning_?"

" _Second thing. There is another important thing I must do first, then I will seek you out. There is yet another danger to my people, a danger perhaps from within. But sleep well now, White Wolf. Your return fills my heart with joy and new hope._ "

Johnny Goth, his mind swirling, finally fell asleep. Much earlier he had intended to phone Angela, but consumed by the excitement of everything that was happening, he had never even thought of her again. Not once.

****

Hundreds of miles to the south, Angela was thinking of Johnny, but was doing it as she lay in bed next to her long-time lover, Mike Wells, after a torrid round of sex.

"I missed you Baby," said Mike. "I still don't know what you see in that geek Goth. He ain't your type."

"There's more to Johnny than you think."

"Like what? Is he hung like a horse?"

Angela laughed. "Johnny's fine in that department, better than fine, really, but no, that's not exactly what I mean. Johnny can do things that other people can't." She didn't tell him that Johnny was by far the best lover she ever had, and she had many, especially at school. Her father exiled her to Ohio State to get her away from guys in California, but it didn't make any difference. Guys were everywhere, and they all wanted her as much as she wanted them.

Wells laughed. "Goth can do things? What things?"

"Well, he could probably twist your sorry ass into a pretzel without working up a sweat if he wanted to, for one thing."

"Bull! That's crazy!"

"But true. You wouldn't believe how strong he is. And he's fast. I clocked him running a sub-three-minute mile once. He wasn't even out of breath when he finished."

"That's impossible!"

"But that's nothing. He can do things just by thinking about them."

"Like what?"

"Like make things float in the air. I saw him do it, when he didn't know that I was watching. And he's smart too, super smart."

Wells smiled. Make things float in the air? Right. "Book smart maybe, but not street smart. Intelligence ain't worth shit if you don't know how to use it."

"That's what I'm trying to do, steer him towards using his incredible gifts to my benefit. I intend to be a super-rich woman someday, with his help. I was really pissed off when Dad made me go to that hick-school in Ohio, but I was lucky to find Johnny there."

Wells suppressed a biting retort. Ohio State was the biggest university in the country and hardly a hick school. "He's a boy scout, and he'll always be a boy scout."

"True, but he's MY boy scout."

"So OK, where does that leave me?"

"With me, Mike, like always. I can handle Johnny, but I'll need help from time to time with Daddy, the Company, and with other things. I need someone I can trust because they think the way I do. My bad boy: someone with guts and sense."

"And a big hard-on." He rolled on top of her again.

Angela smiled. Sex was such a great way to control men. It even worked with Johnny, or so she had thought. It had been quite a shock when he disappeared.

What was Johnny up to, anyway? Daddy and Wells were wrong, it couldn't have been merely that little row at the staff meeting; she had seen Johnny handle much worse situations than that without working up a sweat. It apparently had something to do with a strange, hairy little visitor. Who was he? Who else did Johnny know in California? His landlady had said something about them going north on business. What business? North where?

Suddenly, it all fit together. Johnny had obviously gone to look for his lost mountain. The mysterious mountain somehow had something to do with his powers, she was sure. She should be with him, and in control, finding out more about his powers. Maybe she could even get her own powers, and then she wouldn't even need Johnny. But how could she find him? Not even Johnny knew where the mountain was. Only his mother knew.

Angela generally had no use for Johnny's mother; but after Wells left she immediately phoned her, despite the lateness of the hour. "Mrs. Goth? It's Angela, calling about Johnny."

In Ohio, Ann Goth nearly fainted. "Has something happened to Johnny? Why are you phoning me in the middle of the night?"

"He's fine, as far as I know."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Johnny has disappeared, taken a few days off to find Goth Mountain, I suspect."

Ann almost fainted a second time. Her worst fears were being realized. "You wouldn't understand Angela, but he could be in danger if he returns to Goth Mountain. I lost his father to that place; I don't want to lose Johnny too! He has to be stopped."

"I agree. I want to stop him too, but I don't know where to look for him."

"He doesn't know where to go either."

"He might have help."

"Help? What do you mean?"

"I'm told that when he was last seen at work he was with a very hairy little man named Ned. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it does."

"Ned is an old friend from Goth Mountain, am I right?"

"Yes, an old, old friend. He'll take Johnny to Goth Mountain, or worse."

"What do you mean, worse?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Can you tell me where to find Johnny?"

Ann Goth sounded very tired when she finally replied. "I can show you. Fly to Portland and I'll meet you at the airport by afternoon. Have a rental car ready and I'll drive us straight to Goth Mountain in a few hours."

Angela hesitated. She had worked for many months to increase her control of Johnny, and decrease his mother's influence. She didn't like what Ann had proposed, but she didn't seem to have a choice. "Fine. We can cell phone details to each other later."

After Ann Goth phoned the airline and packed there was a three-hour stretch before she had to leave when she should have slept, but she couldn't. Instead, she lay in bed, worrying. Johnny was returning to Goth Mountain, and could be nearly there already. She could still remember when Mark disappeared as though it happened only yesterday.

Johnny was far too much like his father: too smart, too confident, and too damned curious. He would be fascinated and drawn in; there was no two ways about it. He would rejoin the Tribe. Worst of all, he would look for his father on Goth Mountain. What if the same thing that happened to Mark also happened to Johnny? She couldn't bear to think of it, but she couldn't help thinking about it.

****

CHAPTER 8

AMBUSH

In the morning Elizabeth discovered Johnny in the kitchen, cooking eggs and sliced vegetables on the old wood stove. Light streaming in from several windows confirmed that it was morning. Both cats lay quietly on the living-room sofa, doing what cats do better than practically any other creature: they were sleeping.

"Smells great. I've never even seen a wood stove, not even on my Aunt's old farm," she remarked.

"Goth technology."

"What are those greens you're cooking?"

"Sugar snap peas straight from the garden."

"One of my favorites, but they can't be snap peas, they're the size of cucumbers."

"Bigger." He tossed her a raw pea-pod, which she skillfully caught one-handed.

"No way!" she exclaimed. The pod was half a meter long. It indeed snapped when she broke it in half, revealing gulf ball sized peas. She skillfully tore off the tough fibers that ran the length of the pod along its edges, then bit into the tender green pod. "OK, it looks and tastes like a sugar-snap pea, but it's impossibly huge!"

"Thanks to the Goth green thumb," he replied. "I'll show you the garden after we eat." He carried steaming plates piled with over-easy eggs and snap peas to the dining table, where Elizabeth joined him.

"So, what's going on with Two Bears?" she asked, between bites. "Like for instance how did he get back here before us? Even if he only had a short rest at Dooley's, who gave him the ride? Dooley doesn't drive or own a car, and neither does Two Bears."

"I don't know, but I think you're trying to make it out to be more mysterious than it deserves."

"Maybe. I've encountered stranger things here over the last couple of years."

"The Tribe has its own ways, which may seem strange at times to outsiders."

"I've heard that one before, lots of times. Can I see where you Goths grow the giant snap peas?"

Johnny had also finished with breakfast. "Sure."

Stepping outside through the back door, their senses were assailed by the overwhelming sights, smells, and feel of the surrounding forest. At first Elizabeth could only stand wide-eyed, taking it all in. She noticed that Johnny was similarly entranced.

A hawk circling high above called down to them. Three-hundred foot tall fir trees swayed in the breeze. A half dozen black-tailed mule-deer grazed at the edge of the forest.

"The forest calls to me, Elizabeth," Johnny said. "I have been away far too long. This place is where I should be, always. I can feel it."

"It's wonderful. Is that a barn?" She pointed at a second log building that was fifty meters behind the first one. It was even taller than the cabin, and featured great double doors.

"Yes. Built in the 1840's, same as the cabin. It shelters the horses through winter."

"But the logs that they're both made of are titanic! How were the cabin and barn built?"

"The Tribe helped."

"Ten tribes couldn't move those logs! Some are over eight feet in diameter and fifty feet long."

"You're right, it must have been very difficult. I suppose that great-great granddaddy Goth brought some Archimedes know-how with him."

"My God!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She had been looking at the old barn and the gigantic lilies that lined the stone path as they walked. Suddenly the path had wound through a last stand of flowers and opened into the vegetable garden. Directly in front of her were snap-pea vines that reached to the top of a twenty-foot trellis, zucchini plants with leaves the size of elephant ears, and lettuce plants with heads already the size of water melons. Juvenile eggplant and tomato plants, also king-sized, were already taller than Johnny. It was still only early spring; how big would this stuff eventually get?

"The garden is good this year, just as I remember it as a child," remarked Johnny.

"Good? This is more than good, it's impossible! Did Mort do gene splicing out in the barn to grow giant stuff for county fairs?"

Johnny laughed. "Stuff just grows good up here, that's all."

She shook her head. "There's got to be more to it than that, Johnny, much more."

She had been focusing on the garden, but now looked beyond it. A well-worn path led east into the woods, disappearing among impossibly immense trees, including impossibly immense Douglas firs that towered skyward well over three hundred feet. Fifty meters in from the clearing a three-meter high steel-framed gate blocked the path. An over-sized padlock locked it shut. An imposing barbed wire fence of equal height disappeared into the woods on either side of the gate. The Tribe's holy place, the Goth mystery that Fenster wanted to know about, was apparently somewhere behind that second fence.

"I don't suppose you can tell me what's back there?"

"I wouldn't, if I knew, but I don't know anyway, at least not all of it. I saw much of it long ago, but I was too young to be shown everything."

"But now they'll show you everything?"

"Yes, I will need to be shown everything now. But the longer I am here, the more I remember about what my father taught and showed me already. First and foremost I have serious responsibilities; I am now the Goth."

"That's exactly what they used to call Mort. The Goth. Exactly what does it mean?"

Johnny smiled. "For several generations the Tribe and my family have had an arrangement for their mutual benefit."

"Chief George told me something of that, in order to get my help. The Goths look after a holy place of the Tribe: what they call the Holy Forest. It's through that inner gate somewhere, obviously. But it seemed to me that he told me only part of what he knew, and that even to tell me that much was very difficult for him."

"Yes. You are probably the first non-Tribe person to know so much. They must trust you very much."

"More desperation than trust, I suspect, since I'm not a member of the Tribe. But you are a formal member of the Tribe, White Wolf?"

"Of course."

"This is all very strange."

"I've been out of this for fourteen years. It's a bit strange for me too."

Strange and wonderful, she thought: this strange and wonderful place, ancient and wild, and this unusual enigma of a man that she had immediately liked and felt so strongly drawn to. "What's next?" she asked, as they walked slowly back towards the cabin.

"Elizabeth, I'm thinking that you might be safer on the Reservation than here or back in town. Fenster and Dark are both very dangerous, and they seem focused on me and this place. You've already been caught in the cross fire."

Elizabeth looked us into Johnny's deep gray eyes, and she suddenly realized she was more concerned about being without Johnny than she was about encountering Barns, Skunk, Fenster, or even Dark. "I feel safer being here with you."

"I'm going to be very busy for the next few days."

"Secret Tribe stuff, right? I won't ask you any more questions; just let me stay."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't want to leave."

"On the Reservation you'll be closer to your school."

"I have a signed lease that gives me the right to be here, Johnny Goth! Even with cause you'll have to give me a thirty-day notice to break it."

"There's plenty of cause, but we don't have thirty days."

"I just don't want to leave you, Johnny Goth."

Johnny smiled, but didn't at first reply. He was having a second conversation with a very old friend.

" _She likes you very much Johnny, and you like her,_ " said the voice in Johnny's head.

" _Yes, very much so,_ " pathed Johnny in reply. " _What do you think of her, Two Bears?_ "

" _I too like her very much; the whole tribe does. I'll come to see you when I've finished here. We have very much to discuss. Good luck with Elizabeth._ "

Johnny was feeling very lucky. He and Elizabeth were looking into each other's eyes. Somehow they drifted closer together and their hands met and fingers tangled, and she was soon standing on tip-toes straining upward, and he was bending down, so that their lips would soon meet.

Two gunshots in quick succession echoed through the valley.

Johnny's eyes went wide with horror as they lifted away from Elizabeth and turned towards the forest to the south. "No!" he cried out, in terrible anguish. Then without another word he ran swiftly across the clearing and into the forest beyond.

"What is it?" Elizabeth shouted, but Johnny was already gone, lost in forest shadows.

Elizabeth followed, calling out Johnny's name as she went. Entering the forest he saw no footprints or other signs of his passage; she could only continue in what seemed to be the direction he had taken. Around her, she heard bird whistles and hoots, moving at ground level in parallel with her, converging towards some point ahead. It had to be some of the Tribe members that had been guarding the cabin that she heard, also moving towards the source of the rifle shots. The sounds gradually moved ahead of her and faded away, but she took that as affirmation that she was still moving in the right direction.

****

When Johnny reached Two Bears, a big Indian in a tan Tribal Police uniform was kneeling over his still body. It had been a long time, but Johnny recognized him.

"How is he, Small Bear?" Johnny asked.

The Indian looked up at Johnny and momentarily showed a hint of surprise, before his face again became a blank mask. "You would be Johnny Goth. I would rejoice to see you again, were my heart not broken. My Uncle, the Great Two Bears, has been murdered."

"No!" Johnny knelt next to Two Bears. The big man's hand-woven normally off-white shirt was red with blood, and he obviously wasn't breathing. A few shirt buttons had been undone, and his shirt folded down to bare a blood covered chest.

"Two shots directly to the heart," said Small Bear, shaking his head as he stood up. "He never had a chance. I warned him not to get involved in the drug problem, but he would not listen."

Johnny felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Tracks tell the tale," said Small Bear, studying the ground. "There are signs leading to and from this place. He met two people here, both members of the Tribe."

Johnny hadn't studied the surroundings; Two Bears was his total focus. "Tribe members did this? I don't believe it."

"You have been gone a long time, Johnny Goth. White man drugs can make weak minds do anything." He pointed into the forest. "The killers escape. I will follow their trail before the others destroy it when they come." At that, Small Bear disappeared into the forest, leaving Johnny alone with the lifeless bloody body of Great Two Bears.

Johnny had never before felt so helpless. He held Two Bears' great hand, tears streaming from his eyes. The huge hand was still warm. Blood was on the big red man's shirt pooled on his bare chest, but there was not as much of it as might be expected; apparently he died so quickly that there hadn't even been time for him to lose more than a pint or two of blood. Johnny knew exactly how fast Two Bears had died. In his head he had heard the shaman cry out in surprise and pain for only a second or two, then there was only a deathly silence, even as the fading sound of the deadly gunshots were still echoing through the valley.

As Johnny watched, the pool of blood on the big man's chest actually receded, revealing two close-spaced bullet entry holes over the shaman's heart. Johnny was puzzled for a moment, over what had happened to the blood, until he realized that he himself had willed the blood back into the wounds.

A crazy thought came to him. Without even focusing on it, he had already moved some of the blood into the body. Could he somehow circulate Two-Bear's blood, even though the shaman's heart was useless? How? Moving blood he could see was one thing, moving it sight unseen was another. However, many times he had helped circulate oil and anti-freeze through the engine of his old Tempo. Wouldn't this be similar?

Also, a few times before, he had moved some spirit part of himself elsewhere, achieving out-of-body experiences that allowed him to sit atop rooftops or clouds for several minutes at a time, seeing and sometimes feeling things remotely. Could he now similarly feel his way into Two Bears, find the heart and then will blood to move though it?

There was nothing to lose; he had to try. He put his left hand over the wounds and closed his eyes, and focused on Two Bears, on feeling blood-soaked skin, the wounds, and then projecting some part of himself deeper while opening his mind to sense what was found there.

He found a chaos of torn flesh and shattered rib bone, gasping for life-granting sustenance now being denied, a torn and crushed body still trying feebly and hopelessly to repair itself even as it died. Moving deeper, he sensed a cavity full of still blood, mixed with tattered flesh that had once formed a great, pulsing heart, but which now was still.

Johnny fought to control his own uncertainties and fears as he felt his way through the torn heart, trying to figure out how it was supposed to work and what was damaged. Damage was so massive that he immediately reworked his strategy. He couldn't simply cause the heart to reactivate; the heart was mostly gone. Exactly how the heart used to work was of no immediate concern. Using his own heart as his model, he located entry and exit arteries in Two Bears and willed blood to start moving through the torn cavity that separated them.

Blood without oxygen was useless; next he had to get the lungs to function. He positioned Two-Bear's head, opened his mouth, and pinched shut his nostrils, before bending down and breathing a great lungful of air into him.

For a moment, he lost his concentration on the heart and blood circulation stopped, but Johnny found that he could soon indeed simultaneously accomplish both activities, though only with difficulty.

He was greatly relieved when he sensed Black Hawk's arrival. Johnny's old friend was wearing a police uniform similar to Small Bear's, but with only deputy stripes on his shirt sleeves. Though his eyes were welling with tears, Black Hawk took over the lung resuscitation task, leaving Johnny to focus on blood circulation. With his eyes closed and his hands holding the big man's limp arm, Johnny continued.

Others arrived; Johnny could hear them each cry out in anguish and rage when they discovered that Two Bears had been shot. But when they observed the efforts of Johnny and Black Hawk they also quickly sensed that hope remained.

"He breathes himself," proclaimed Black Hawk, when he paused his efforts after several minutes of resuscitation. A loud cheer went up from the other men.

Johnny didn't choose to also confirm to them that Two Bears' mind was functioning, though at a very low level. Telling them that would increase their celebration and there was no time for such things. "I am moving his blood, acting as his heart," explained Johnny. "We must get him to the Holy Forest quickly."

"We also need a healer," said Black Hawk. "Mary White Dove is our best. I have already radioed the Village for her to come here. In the meantime we must begin to carry Great Two Bears towards the Holy Forest."

****

After several more long minutes of dodging trees, ferns taller than herself, car-sized boulders and basement-deep gullies, Elizabeth stopped. It was useless. She had no remaining sense of direction, and could tell nothing from her surroundings. She tried to judge by looking at the sun, but upper layers of fir and mid-level layers of hemlock and cedar, strung with vines and moss, cut off any direct sunlight too far above, while hills, boulders, ferns and bushes, and tree trunks obscured any general lay of the land. Moss grow on all sides of the great trees that surrounded her. She called Johnny's name several more times, her voice seeming tiny among the forest giants that swayed in the breeze above her, but only the wind and the birds answered.

Then she heard muffled human voices, moving towards her. She walked towards the growing sound, and soon saw more than a dozen braves as well as Johnny, walking towards her in a strangely compact group and jointly carrying something large over their heads. Most were shirtless in the chill of morning. Black Hawk led the group, and occasionally muttered a few sharp words in Indian that Elizabeth could only assume were instructions on how to navigate over and around forest obstacles.

The rest of the group was strangely silent, but their stern faces registered overwhelming shock, pain and anger. Tears streamed from the eyes of many of them, as they glanced nervously at the surrounding trees and then at the large object that they carried, as though guarding it.

On their shoulders they carried a makeshift stretcher of branches joined together with belts and knotted shirts, on which lay what appeared to be a great pile of rags. It was a body, Elizabeth realized with a shock, the body of a huge man covered with the shirts of many braves to keep him warm against the morning chill.

Johnny, also shirtless, walked with his fellow Tribe-brothers beside the stretcher, one hand and shoulder helping to hold up the stretcher, and the other tightly grasping the unconscious man's huge hand, which hung down limply next to him. Elizabeth couldn't help noticing that Johnny was built like a ballet dancer, with lithe muscles rippled smoothly as he walked. Johnny looked straight ahead, apparently in deep concentration and paying more attention to the hand he grasped than to his hike through the forest. She soon realized that the immense dangling hand and arm could only belong to one man.

"Two Bears," Elizabeth muttered. She stepped towards Johnny, as though to help, but Johnny shook his head no.

"Stay back, Elizabeth. I need to concentrate alone," explained Johnny.

"Should I call an ambulance? I left my cell phone at the cabin but I can go get it."

"No ambulances, no police. Run ahead to meet Mary White Dove and bring her back to us quickly."

Elizabeth turned and ran, her heart pounding, her mind numb. She felt that she was retracing her path back towards the cabin, but after a while wasn't sure. She shouted Mary's name a few times and was immensely relieved when she saw her friend walking rapidly towards her through the forest from the direction she was headed. When she told her about Two Bears and what was being done, the Indian woman's face contorted in grief. Then she was running so swiftly through the forest that Elizabeth could hardly keep up with her.

When they reached the Two Bears entourage, Elizabeth was surprised to see that Johnny was now riding on the stretcher next to Two Bears, his head bowed and eyes closed in concentration.

"It is good to see you, White Wolf," Mary said, as the braves lowered the stretcher to the ground for her access.

The hint of a smile flashed over Johnny's face when his eyes opened and met Mary's, but was quickly overcome with pain as they both looked at Two Bears. "And you, my big sister," he replied.

But this was not the occasion for reunion small talk. Mary knelt, placed her hand on the wounds, and closed her eyes for a full minute before opening them again. "He lives but barely," she proclaimed, "but only through Johnny's efforts."

"I don't understand," said Elizabeth. "Johnny's only holding his hand."

"This is Tribal business Elizabeth," said Mary, surprising her friend with her words and her sudden stern tone. "We are grateful for your help but perhaps you should leave us now."

"Yes," agreed Black Hawk. "She should leave us now."

"No," said Johnny, not opening his eyes, "I will take responsibility for her staying with us."

Black Hawk shrugged.

"Very well, White Wolf," said Mary. "This is no time for arguments, and you are the Goth." She turned to face Elizabeth. "You can watch and must do as we say, but we have no time for explanations. Save your questions for later." At that, Mary closed her eyes again.

Mary White Dove had many experiences healing minor accident injuries and diseases, but had never encountered a medical emergency as immediate or severe as this. Besides a heart that was half blown away, there was extensive damage to muscle, ribs, the left lung, and even the spine. Complete healing by her, if it was possible, would at best take several days, even in the Holy Forest.

But they didn't have several days. There were immediate, temporary repairs that had to be made, as Johnny continued pumping blood through the heart cavity, or Two Bears wouldn't last an hour. She could sense Johnny's strong presence, and marveled at what the young man had been able to do, even though he had been separated from the Tribe and Goth Mountain for fourteen years. How long could he keep it up?

"We should first remove the bullets, Johnny," she said. "I have healing skills, but not the ability to move objects. Can you do it? While still continuing blood flow?"

"I will try," Johnny replied. Indeed, it was much harder than he expected. The bullets had burst apart on impact, so that the pieces could do more terrible damage. There were over a dozen shards of deadly metal scattered through the big man's chest and back. Each was a continuing source of irritation to Two Bears' ailing body, such that Johnny had no trouble locating them by attuning his thoughts to the living system of Two Bears.

The trick was removing them in a way that minimized further damage to the shaman. Johnny carefully removed the pieces one at a time, reversing their path through torn flesh. One by one they emerged from Two Bears' wounds, bit by bloody bit. Johnny could feel Mary following his every move, focusing her healing powers to quickly undo any additional damage he did that couldn't be helped.

Elizabeth and the gathered tribesmen watched in awe as bloody bits of ragged metal emerged from the two wounds, floated through the air a few inches, and then dropped next to Two Bears. The tribesmen whispered to each other. Elizabeth was too astonished to do anything but watch.

At last only one piece remained, a jagged strip of metal that was deeply imbedded in the spine of the big shaman. Johnny realized that if he pulled it out it could act like a saw blade and sever much more of the spinal cord.

He mentally withdrew from his bullet removal task.

"One more piece remains, Johnny," noted Mary.

Johnny opened his eyes for a few moments and glanced up at Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, I need the plastic cap to your pen," he instructed. "Place it near the wounds."

Elizabeth indeed had a pen in her pocket. How Johnny knew that she couldn't imagine; she had totally forgotten about it. She removed the cap and placed the small blue plastic item on Two Bears' chest as directed, though she couldn't comprehend why Johnny needed it. A moment later she gasped, as animated by unseen forces, it slowly moved to one of the bullet wounds and disappeared into it.

Perhaps two minutes later two objects emerged from the same wound, a half-sized portion of the original plastic cap, and a second smaller piece of smooth, blue plastic. Curious, Elizabeth picked them up in her hand and examined them. The pen cap looked shriveled, and much smaller than it had originally been. The second piece was actually mostly metal, completely covered by a smooth plastic coating of the cap-plastic material. Johnny had used his mental powers to somehow coat the final, jagged bullet fragment with smooth plastic from her pen!

For thirty minutes more Mary and Johnny sat over Two Bears, as Mary made emergency repairs and Johnny continued pumping the shaman's blood. When at last Mary stood, she wavered dizzily as though she would fall down, but Black Hawk and Elizabeth steadied her.

"I'm alright now," she said, after a few minutes, during which all the men knelt around Two Bears and happily confirmed for themselves that their shaman was indeed breathing. "Temporary repairs are complete such that he won't bleed to death or have a stroke. He should now be carried to the Holy Forest."

Black Hawk was soon again leading the group towards the cabin, the foremost of ten strong men carrying both Two Bears and Johnny on the makeshift stretcher. Elizabeth and Mary followed behind them.

"Johnny is placing great trust in you, Elizabeth," confided Mary quietly.

"I wouldn't do anything to hurt the Tribe Mary, you know that."

"Yes, I believe that, but I know you very well; most of the Tribe does not. Yet for now they are accepting you, mostly because of Johnny."

"A man they haven't seen in fourteen years. Why do you all trust him?"

"He is more than he seems."

"So are you."

"I am on the Tribal Council and a Healer, but there are many things that I do not know and can not do. I tell you as a friend, the less you know, the better off all of us are, including especially you. That is a lesson that all of us of the Tribe learn at an early age. Only the Shaman and the Goth know all."

"Johnny knows all?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid."

"Losing both Mort and Two Bears is a huge disaster then?"

"Yes, the major parts of a very difficult situation. And I fear that you may be regarded as yet another problem."

"Me?"

"You have become one more thing for us to worry about."

"Nobody has to worry about me!"

"Another thing we of the Tribe learn early is to always worry. The Tribal Council will have to wrestle with the entire situation." She cocked her head as though she had heard something. "Small Bear comes now."

Sure enough, the Tribe Police Chief soon quietly emerged from the forest to join Mary and Elizabeth. He looked very puzzled to see Johnny and Two Bears being carried together. "What does Goth do?" he asked Mary.

"He keeps Two Bears alive, cousin."

"Uncle lives? Impossible."

"Johnny is the Goth."

"But Uncle is unconscious?"

"Yes, very."

"But he will recover?"

"He has but a chance, if Johnny can keep his blood flowing long enough for me to heal him."

"How long?"

"Only the Maker knows. Probably it will be several days before he regains consciousness. If and when he regains consciousness, any remaining healing will be swiftly done by him. What about the shooter?"

"One trail led towards the village, the other circled back to the place of the shooting."

"You are saying that one of the men carrying Two Bears now may have shot him? A man of the Tribe?"

"It looks that way. What about her?" He nodded towards Elizabeth.

"She has the Goth's permission to be with us. What we do, she will hear and see, by his leave."

"A mistake, cousin. Were the bullets removed from Two Bears?"

"Yes, by Johnny. The fragments are wrapped in the red shirt next to him."

Elizabeth watched as Small Bear caught up with the stretcher and retrieved the only red shirt among the many blue, green, tan and gray ones that formed the stretcher. It was tied into a tight ball. Kneeling, he sat it on the ground and carefully unwrapped it. The stretcher never even slowed down and moved away from them.

"Is this the right shirt?" he asked, as Mary and Elizabeth approached him.

"Yes. In the pocket," stated Mary.

"I looked in the pocket. Nothing."

Mary quickly looked herself, and also found nothing.

"Could they have fallen out?" Elizabeth asked.

"No," said Mary. "I wrapped them in there myself, tight."

"Yet they are gone," said Small Bear. "It must have been the shooter, removing evidence." He glanced towards the receding stretcher party. They were almost out of sight.

"The life of Two Bears is more important than your evidence now," said Mary, standing up. She handed the shirt back to Small Bear, than jogged to catch up with the stretcher. Elizabeth and Small Bear walked behind.

"I don't understand," said Small Bear to Elizabeth.

"What?"

"What does any of this have to do with you, Miss Winters. Why are you involved?"

"I got caught up in it; I didn't plan to."

"This is dangerous business, and you could just walk away. What do you get from it? A big story for your reporter friends?"

Elizabeth was beginning to not like this man. "Of course not."

"What then? Payoff from Fenster?"

"You have a twisted mind."

"Part of the job."

"Shouldn't you be watching Two Bears, if the man that shot him is helping to carry him?"

"There are a dozen men watching him."

"Why not search them all? The one with the bits of bullet is the assassin."

"A waste of time. He would have surely thrown them into the woods by now. They will never be found, I am sure. I will have to rely on other evidence."

"Such as asking Two Bears, when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up."

She didn't like his attitude. Two Bears would live; he had too! From the cold way Small Bear talked of him, it was hard to believe that the two men were related. She picked up her walking pace to catch up with the stretcher. Small Bear lagged behind, which didn't bother her in the least. She glanced back a minute later and found that he had again disappeared into the forest. That didn't bother her either.

****

CHAPTER 9

SUSPICIONS

Thirty thousand feet above Illinois, Ann Goth tried to nap. She would need all her strength for what would soon come. She would try once more to save Johnny from the Goth legacy.

She would also again try to save Johnny from Angela. She had met Angela only once previously and had immediately disliked her. In summary, Angela was a selfish, power hungry bitch that cared for nobody but herself. Perhaps though, if her hold over Johnny was strong enough, she could first be used as a tool to pry Johnny away from the Mountain. That was obviously the first priority, and the only reason she had agreed to bring Angela with her.

But it wasn't that simple. Returning to Goth Mountain would require that she again confront Mort, Two Bears and the rest of the Tribe, and perhaps even the People -- everyone that she had abandoned fourteen years ago. However, her toughest confrontation could well be with herself. She would have to again address her own ties to Goth Mountain. She had denied those ties every minute of every hour of every day since Mark had disappeared, but they still persisted.

****

More than a thousand miles to the west, the Two Bears entourage arrived at the edge of the open field overlooking the Goth log cabin to find it under siege. An ambulance and three sheriff's department squad cars were parked in the driveway in front of the cabin, with lights flashing. A dozen braves with rifles stood watching a half dozen armed white men in uniform. Elizabeth identified Sheriff Barns immediately.

The tribesmen put down the stretcher at the edge of the clearing, in grass tall enough to hide even Two Bears. Black Hawk, Mary, and half a dozen stretcher-men walked towards the cabin to join the confrontation. Johnny opened his eyes and watched the activity at the cabin, but said nothing.

Elizabeth stood nearby. Somehow Johnny was still keeping Two Bears alive, she knew. She watched the big man's chest rise and fall with each breath. Johnny sat quietly, both of his hands holding one of the huge limp hands of Two Bears, as he watched Black Hawk discuss matters with his fellow tribesman. She wished there were some way she could help, but remembered Johnny's earlier rebuff.

As though Johnny could sense her eyes on him, he turned his head towards her, smiled, and motioned her closer with a bloody hand. "How are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"How am I doing? How are you doing? Or is this a usual sort of day in the life of Johnny Goth?"

"Not remotely. I've never done anything like this and I'm as amazed by everything as you are."

"I somehow doubt that."

"OK, almost as amazed."

"How can you manage small talk and help Two Bears at the same time?"

"I've established a sort of rhythm. In the beginning it was a smooth flow that I provided, but now I'm pulsing blood through, almost without thought."

"While we talk."

"Yes. I'm using the beating of my own heart to time his pulses. It seems to work fine. Actually I wasn't sure that would be possible to talk and keep him alive at the same time, but I decided to try it now with you, and seem to have have passed the test."

"Why risk it?"

"For practice. I expect our favorite sheriff to visit us very soon, and he might be more difficult to deal with than you are."

"They have an ambulance with modern equipment."

"I doubt that any hospital could duplicate what I'm doing. Certainly paramedics with an ambulance would be totally useless. If they take Two Bears away from me, he'll be dead in minutes."

"You know that for certain?"

"Absolutely."

"Here comes Mary."

White Dove returned from the cabin, looking very grave when she approached Johnny. "They know about the shooting."

"How?" asked Johnny.

"We don't know. They don't tell us much."

"What have you told them?"

"Even less. That they trespass. That we don't want them here. That you don't want them here. But they saw us arrive carrying you and Two Bears and insist on coming up here to see him and you, Johnny."

"Let them come, but no more than three of them. Keep them covered. I will talk with them, but they must be kept under guard. If I am separated from Two Bears or interrupted too seriously, Two Bears will die."

"Understood, White Wolf," said Mary. She returned to the confrontation at the cabin.

Sheriff Jake Barns soon approached, flanked by two husky deputies with hands on their side-arms, flanked by Black Hawk and six armed tribesmen. Barns was smiling his shark smile.

"That's close enough," said Johnny, when Barns was only two meters from him. Two burly tribesmen carrying rifles blocked Barns and his men from coming closer.

"Heard there's been trouble on your place, Goth," said the still grinning sheriff. "Two Bears has been murdered, I understand. Now ain't that a real damn shame? Is that his body under them rags next to you? We're here for the body and to search your place and take you in for questioning, Goth. I got warrants coming, but in the meantime I've got probable cause and the threat of further possible violence that allows me to get started right now."

The sheriff and his men had their hands on their handguns, but wisely kept them holstered as they eyeballed the well-armed Indians warily.

Johnny didn't even blink. "I don't know where you get your information Barns, but it's mostly wrong. First, Two Bears was shot all right, but he'll live." Barns' smile disappeared. "Second, it happened on Reservation land so it's clean out of your jurisdiction. Your warrants and your pretext for being here are invalid."

"That's right," confirmed Black Hawk. "We're already on the case." The young deputy stepped directly between Barns and Johnny. "We'll let the FBI know if we need outside help, like if we need a meddling white man arrested for instance."

Barns focused on Johnny in an attempt to ignore Black Hawk. "It happened on the Reservation you say? That's not what I heard."

"I confirm it, Sheriff," said Small Bear, who suddenly appeared next to Black Hawk. "Who called you in on this? Who said it didn't happen on the Reservation?"

Barns seemed to be astonished. "You're confirming that the shooting happened on Reservation land, Small Bear?"

"We just covered that," snapped Mary White Dove. "We'd be real interested in finding out how you heard about anything, this being Reservation business."

"We got a phone call, that's all that I know."

"The Chief has the only phone on the Reservation. Why would he phone you?" asked Mary.

"Not my problem. You're off the Reservation now, and I'll ask the questions."

"They're off the Reservation and guests on my private property Sheriff; you're the trespasser here," stated Johnny. "Also, you could risk federal indictment for impeding a Reservation investigation. Do you really want the FBI to get involved?"

"I get along just fine with the FBI, Goth, call them in any time. Now, if this happened on the Reservation, why bring Two Bears here?"

"My place was closest," explained Johnny. "We heard the shots and found Two Bears on Reservation land, and we're taking him to the Tribe medical facility by the shortest route, which happens to be through Goth land."

"Maybe Goth here is our shooter, Small Bear, and he's playing the good Samaritan part as a cover."

"Johnny was standing with me just outside the cabin when we both heard the noise of shots deep in the forest," said Elizabeth.

"Aside from no motive and no gun, the signs don't support Goth as the shooter," confirmed Small Bear. "Reservation people did the shooting, not Johnny."

"Well, Two Bears is off the Reservation now and in need of medical care, if he's alive. You can't stop us from taking him. That's the law."

"We refuse your medical treatment," said Mary. "That's allowed under your law also."

"Only Two Bears can refuse it, and he ain't capable," said Barns.

"Let's ask him," said Elizabeth.

"But he's in no shape for questions," protested Mary.

"Hell, I don't even believe he's alive at all," said Barns.

"Just go ahead and ask him," said Johnny. He looked down at Two Bears. The shaman's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping or dead. The only outward sign of life was the slow rise and fall of his chest, nearly undetectable under the shirts that covered him. Johnny held one of his huge limp hands, but the other one was resting across the big man's belly. "Two Bears, if you can understand us, raise your hand."

Onlookers gawked in astonishment as the shaman's free hand lifted and gave a little wave. Tribesmen cheered, hooted, and jumped up and down in delight.

Small Bear, his face grave, held up his hands to signal their silence.

"Two Bears, if you refuse medical assistance from these white men, wave your hand again," said Johnny.

Two Bears waved again. Tribe members again broke into celebration. Barns cursed.

"You see, we have things under control here, Barns," stated Small Bear. "You aren't needed here. Sorry for the mix up. Goodbye now."

At first Barns seemed to be too angry to respond, but amid cheering Tribesmen, he slowly nodded his head, and turned towards Johnny.

"Fenster is preparing an offer to buy this place from you, Goth. More money than you can imagine. What do you think of that?"

"Offers won't do Fenster any good. I'm paying the taxes and no Goth will ever sell this land," replied Johnny.

"That ain't right. Even if you Goths own the land you got no call to hold up progress. These old over-growth trees are crying out to be cut down and made into things folks can use. This valley needs logged, son. Think of the work it would bring to the folks around here. It's a waste of good timber as things stand now, if you ask me."

"I'm not asking you. Good-bye Sheriff," snapped Johnny firmly.

"This ain't over Goth," said Barns. Shaking his head, he turned and slowly walked back to his car. In minutes all police and ambulance vehicles were gone.

"Good job everyone," said Johnny. "The shooting happened on Goth land, of course. But I knew that would be a major problem."

"Yes, that was quick thinking, Johnny," said Small Bear. "I assume that was you, and not Two Bears, doing the waving."

"Yes. Good idea, Elizabeth."

"I suspected you could pull it off," said Elizabeth.

"Two Bears still lives though? His mind is alive?" asked Small Bear.

"Yes, but only barely," replied Johnny. "He remains very much unconscious, even to me."

"How long can you keep him alive?"

"I don't know. Hours, certainly. Days perhaps."

"We must get him into the Holy Forest," said Mary. "There healing will be much faster. It's his only hope."

"Elizabeth should stay at the cabin," said Mary.

"I agree," said Small Bear.

"But I want to help," said Elizabeth, in protest.

"You can help us most by staying at the cabin," said Mary. "Barns or others may yet return with more white-man tricks. Johnny will be occupied deep in the forest, and you are still a white renter with some legal standing."

"If that's what's how I can best help," said Elizabeth, reluctantly.

"Yes, I agree," Johnny told Elizabeth. He wanted her with him but she would be safer at the cabin, and would learn fewer Tribe secrets. "Give Mary your cell phone and we can communicate if necessary, with you using the old phone at the cabin. I assume that you will be looking for the assassin, Small Bear?"

"Yes. But be warned that there are two, and that one returned to help with the stretcher, while the other went to the village."

"We will be on guard," said Mary. "Black Knife should stay with Uncle, to guard him."

"Agreed," nodded Small Bear. "I will seek the second assassin. Barns has given us a clue."

"Clue?" asked Elizabeth.

"The phone call to enemies of the Tribe that brought Barns here."

"From Chief George's phone? That's hard to believe," said Johnny.

"He has the only phone on the Reservation, but that doesn't mean that George had anything to do with it," said Mary.

"Perhaps," said Small Bear.

"You know who I mean," said Mary.

"Tall Fox and Night Hawk," nodded Small Bear.

"Your childhood friends."

"They've kept out of major trouble for several years. But you're right, they must be put on my suspect list for now. But they've been very close to Chief George lately, and that makes me wonder. How drugs have penetrated our close-knit little society has always been a deep mystery."

"You can't possibly suspect George!" said Mary.

"It's my business to suspect everyone, but I hope I'm wrong," said Small Bear, as he turned and left them, trotting towards the village.

"We should go now," said Johnny. "Walk with us as far as the inner gate, Elizabeth." He held a hand out to her, and she took it in hers. Even as ten Tribesmen again lifted the stretcher to their shoulders and walked across the field, they continued to hold hands.

The stretcher party walked past the barn, through the garden and into the forest beyond, following the path Elizabeth had noticed earlier. It seemed to Elizabeth that the trees encountered became even larger as they moved towards the mountain, immensely large. The trunks of many furs and were over fifteen feet in diameter and towered perhaps four hundred feet above them. The cedars were nearly as large. They stopped at the gate of the inner fence, which was secured by the largest and oldest looking padlock Elizabeth ever saw. No one moved to open it.

"Who has the key?" Elizabeth asked.

Mary said nothing, but looked up at Johnny.

Johnny was staring at the lock, and his grip on Elizabeth's hand tightened.

Suddenly, there was a clicking sound, and the lock simply fell open. "The Goth is the key," said Black Hawk, as he pushed open the gate.

Elizabeth looked up and saw that Johnny was smiling down at her. "Luckily, I learned how to do that when I was eight. Go to the cabin now, Elizabeth. I'll join you when this is over."

He squeezed her hand even harder for just a moment, and then let it go. At a nod of his head the stretcher bearing the ailing shaman and himself was carried through the gate and up the path inside, with Mary trailing close behind. The path twisted through impossibly huge trees, and in minutes the rapidly walking party was out of sight.

Two armed guards remained at the open gate, while two more escorted Elizabeth to the cabin. Despite their company, she felt very much alone.

Though Johnny continued the grim task of pumping blood through Two Bears, as much as he could manage he also watched with growing excitement the surrounding forest as he was carried up the valley that stretched up into Goth Mountain. He had been to the Holy Forest several times long ago, but as a child had taken it for granted. Now he could more fully appreciate how special this place truly was. Everything alive here was healthy, the trees, far larger than even the largest sequoias and redwoods to the South, most obviously so.

Despite the desperate situation, he couldn't help smiling. He had generally led a quiet, secretive life for the last fourteen years. Now he had been suddenly thrust into a strange world full of dangers, action, and responsibilities. And he had met a very interesting woman.

****

CHAPTER 10

THE LOST

Fred Simple woke late in the morning with a splitting headache, an inexplicable feeling of dread, and tremendous confusion. What day was this? Where was he? Looking around, he was somewhat comforted to find himself in the familiar setting of his old odds and ends shop, lying on the foldaway daybed. However, he couldn't remember anything of recent events, and was fully dressed including shoes – not his usual bedtime attire, except when sleeping in the car. At least he remembered that much. But why would he be sleeping in a car?

"Professor Simple! I didn't know you were in town!" said a voice from the doorway.

It was a little old lady. A stranger. No, not a stranger. Fred stared at her, trying to figure out who the duce she was. "Mrs. Milligan?" he finally asked, uncertainly.

"Of course. Were you expecting someone else?"

"I don't know. Should I be?"

"I open the shop in ten minutes, same as any other morning."

"You do?"

"Are you alright, Professor?"

"I don't know."

"Well, get up and put that bed away unless you want me to sell it with you in it."

"Of course," he said dumbly, as he climbed out of the daybed, fumbled off the blankets and pillow, and unsuccessfully attempted to fold the bed. He paused for a few moments when he felt dizzy, then set to work again.

The bed remained impervious to his fumbling efforts, Mrs. Milligan noted. "Land sakes, man, let me do that; you're all thumbs this morning." She nudged him aside and quickly folded the daybed, after adjusting the hidden switch that allowed such activity. "Is Dooley about? I have some errands he could run for the shop."

"Dooley?"

"Certainly Dooley."

"Who is Dooley?"

She chuckled. "That's too serious a question for so early in the morning. We've been trying to figure out who Dooley really is for most of his life, haven't we?"

"That doesn't answer my question, not in the least."

Mrs. Milligan was becoming annoyed, but she continued walking from window to window, opening shades to let in the sun, getting ready to open the shop. Professor simple might have time for word games, but working people like herself didn't. "Well, if his father doesn't know who he is, how would I?"

"So OK, who's his father?"

She abruptly stopped fussing with a tangled curtain chord and turned to stare at Simple. The man seemed dead serious. "You actually don't know who Dooley is?"

"I'm feeling a little confused today, I don't seem to remember a lot of things."

"Dooley is your son, Fred, your only child."

"My son?" Fred Simple stood staring dumbly at Mrs. Milligan for long moments, while things clicked together in his head. Good things. Then terrible things. Red eyes and white fangs. "Oh my God!" he said, as he slumped to the floor, his shaking legs no longer able hold up his pudgy body. "Dooley! Dooley! Dooley!"

****

In a secluded corner of the valley below Goth Mountain, Dooley Simple tried to focus on pain relieving thoughts but the pain was too great and the voice was too loud, the voice of evil, the voice of his tormenter, the thing known to his human prey only as Dark.

"Interesting," said Dark. "Your resistance to pain is very impressive. It comes not only from so-called magic power, but from strength of character, a truly rare commodity in humans, I have found. Your will is going to crumble though, we both know that. Why prolong the pain? Tell me now what you know and your end will be swift."

"I hurt," mumbled Dooley.

Dark laughed, and again slapped Dooley across his already bruised and bloody face. Delicious pain and fear radiated from his tormented victim, further feeding Dark's evil soul.

****

At last, the Two Bears stretcher party reached the heart of the Holy Forest. The Great Tree towered before them, impossibly huge and ancient. Not far beyond the Great Tree lay their destination, a fallen giant fir smaller than the Great Tree but by any other standards enormous. They carried the stretcher to a thick section of the prone trunk, opened double wooden doors to a cave-like hollow and walked in.

Lanterns were lit, revealing a natural cavity that had been enlarged to form a narrow room with several empty wooden cots. This was the Tribe hospital, the place were seriously ailing members stayed to benefit from the healing powers of Goth Mountain.

Two Bears was laid on the stoutest wood-framed cot, and Johnny lay next to him on a second cot.

Mary White Dove knelt next to Two Bears and again accelerated the healing process, alternating her focus between heart and spinal cord. The body of Two Bears 'remembered' the way it was supposed to be, and was trying to rebuild itself, but the injury was so massive that her help was needed. Her primary role was to serve as a catalyst for the process.

She was doing her best, but she was not a shaman or a Goth. She sensed Johnny's strong presence in Two Bears, and may have been able to tap or help him redirect some of his strength for healing, but feared to do so. Johnny was busy keeping the shaman alive. After an hour, she paused to rest, and watched the young man she had known as a child in wonder, calmly lying with his eyes closed, as if asleep. He was anything but asleep, she knew, as he relentlessly pulsed blood through Two Bears. No longer a boy, he was a young man now, and was surprisingly strong with powers despite his long absence from Goth Mountain. But how much longer could even a Goth continue pumping blood through Two Bears, she wondered?

Johnny's eyes opened and he smiled at her. "Don't worry, Mary. I can do this for many more hours."

"Yes, White Wolf, but can you do it for several days? Healing may take that long."

"I will do what is needed."

She sighed and closed her eyes, as she reached out to touch Two Bears and resume her healing. "Yes. As will we all, Wolf Cub. If Ned were here he might summon help from the People. It is said that it is he that found you and brought you here. Do you know where Ned is now?"

"He went home with Dooley last night. He is too far away for me to sense him. When he gets here we'll certainly ask him to summon help."

Not wanting to further worry Mary, Johnny again smiled as he closed his own eyes. How long could he continue? He didn't really know. But despite the terrible circumstances, he felt very good about being here. Goth Mountain and the Tribe were his home and his destiny, he realized. A short time ago, all of this had seemed to be a distant childhood dream. Now the box company and Angela seemed to be distant and unreal, while what was happening here on Goth Mountain was all too real.

****

"Very well then, Small Bear, we must call a Council Meeting," said old Summer Buck. "You must present your accusations against Chief Running Buck properly. The Council will read the truth in his words and in his eyes." Summer Buck stood and gestured with his hands as he talked.

Small Bear stayed seated on the floor, in deference to the Tribe Elder. "I take no pleasure in this, Old One. George Running Buck has been a good chief, but perhaps he learned too much of the white man ways while he was in their lands. The Council should take away his position as chief, until this is settled."

"You know that I opposed opening the Tribe to the ways and language of the outside world, Small Bear, so there are things you say that I agree with. But I will not believe that Running Buck is a traitor, Small Bear, regardless of what you may say as evidence against him, unless I learn it directly from him in the proper way."

"Was the shooting of Two Bears proper, Old One? Those responsible must be discovered and brought to justice, even if the one responsible is Chief Running Buck."

"Enough now. It is not proper that we discuss this so much among ourselves, behind his back. It is bad enough that we talk of Tall Fox and Night Hawk. They have been trouble since they were young, so it is natural that they would be suspected. Now it is true that Chief George is giving them a chance, letting them work for him, much as the Tribe gave you your chance to be sheriff, Small Bear. George closely supervises their work, I understand."

"That is what I fear. Tall Fox and Night Hawk are not themselves smart enough to lead the Reservation drug dealing while evading my police. I finally have some evidence against them, but still I have been looking for their leader. They have been spending much time with Chief Running Buck. So then, what if the Chief is secretly the leader of the drug ring? Do you not see? Then everything falls into place."

Agitated, Summer Buck began pacing as he responded, shuffling about on old unsteady legs. "No, if what you say were so, everything would fall out of place. Everything! Besides, I still find it hard to believe that there is a Tribe drug problem at all. We will confront Running Buck on these questions at the Council Meeting. It is the right of any Tribe member to ask such questions of another at a Council Meeting, and to expect only truth. That is our way."

"But what if he denies guilt but is guilty? What if he can lie so well that the Council doubts his guilt?"

"Difficult, but not impossible. Small Bear, I know that your methods as Police Chief have also been influenced by the white man, but we must also trust in our old ways. We cannot brand a man a Traitor, especially a great man such as Running Buck. He must brand himself when confronted. That is the way it must be done."

"As you wish, Old One. But my recommendation is that he be at least temporarily suspended as chief until this matter is fully settled. You would not be declaring his guilt, you would be only showing caution. Perhaps you yourself would accept temporary duty as acting Chief?"

The old man closed his eyes for a few moments and sighed before answering. "I gave up being Chief nine years ago, not because Running Buck came back from the white man schools with new ideas that he was spreading through the Tribe, but because I knew that I was becoming too old. I am no younger now. I have hope that Great Two Bears will soon recover and continue to provide the leadership we need. He may also be able to name his assassins.

"In the meantime, Chief George is our leader. He has been a good Chief and a better man. Against all that, your wild accusations are far from enough. Temporary suspension is not an option. He will remain Chief unless the Council becomes sure of his guilt." Exhausted after his long speech, the old man sat down heavily.

"You are right Elder, of course," agreed Small Bear, as he rose and moved to the door. "Rest now. I will call for an immediate Council meeting in your name. Why not hold it three hours from now, after you have rested?"

"Yes, thank you, Small Bear. That will be good."

"Yes, Elder."

****

Angela looked at her watch again, annoyed. She had rushed herself to fly to Portland to meet Ann Goth and was anxious to get this whole thing over with. The flight she had seen through the air terminal window a few minutes ago taxing towards the gates had to be the one she was waiting for. Sure enough, soon she saw Ann Goth, walking rapidly towards her, leading a crowd of travelers. Angela detested this petite but strong, confident woman, this powerful rival for control of Johnny, but she smiled and waved.

"Hello, Angela," Ann said, without emotion. Her hands were free, a shoulder strap held her duffel bag, but she ignored Angela's outstretched hand. "This is merely a temporary alliance of necessity and convenience Angela. Did you rent the car?"

"Well, it could be even more convenient for you if you would simply tell me where Johnny went. Then I could go get him, and you could simply go back to Ohio."

"No. You couldn't do it yourself. There are people and issues that have to be dealt with by me, not an outsider."

"You mean Johnny's old Indian friends, I suppose. I think I can handle them."

Ann laughed. "You have no idea who or what you're dealing with. But you may be of some minor help. That's why I'm letting you come with me."

"You're letting me come with you?" she started to reply angrily, but Ann cut her off.

"Do you have car keys? I'll drive."

Fighting back her anger, Angela pulled keys from her purse and shoved them towards Ann. Ann snatched them and marched out of the airport so swiftly that Angela had to sometimes jog to keep up with her.

Five minutes later, Ann was driving the sleek Acura rapidly towards the coast. "Johnny is very special, Angela, and so is his relationship with Goth Mountain."

"So there really is a Goth Mountain?"

"Yes. And it is likely that it will be very difficult to get Johnny to leave it."

"Why? Is it made of diamonds or something?"

"Nothing so trivial. It is made of dreams. Nothing you would understand."

Angela smiled. No, she understood. This was it. She was finally going to find out Johnny's secrets. And somehow that was going to mean more money and status for her, she was sure of it.

****

"What's the matter with you! I just told you that my boy has been kidnapped! You're the police, do something about it!" Fred Simple, pudgy little butterball of a man, stood on tiptoes nose to chin with Sheriff Barns.

"Calm down, Simple. That boy of yours disappears for days at a time in those woods, everyone in this town knows that. And he's an adult. If he wants to camp out somewhere, that's not a matter for the law."

"No, I told you, a man named Dark took him."

"You actually saw this Dark fellow take Dooley?"

"Not exactly. But Dark came to my shop late last night. He did something to me, he drugged me or something, and when I woke up this morning Dooley was gone."

"What time?"

"What?"

"When did he come to the shop?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, did he knock on the door?"

"No, I don't think so. He got in somehow on his own. We don't lock our doors anyway; he probably just opened them and walked in. But what does any of that matter?"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that I can remember."

"OK, what did you say to him?"

"Nothing, I think. The next thing I remember is waking up."

"You think? You don't think? You don't remember? Get the hell out of here, Simple. You're wasting my damn time."

His face red with anger, Doc Simple was escorted out of the police station by a burly deputy.

Barns was on the phone with Fenster immediately, telling him about Simple's visit. "I don't like it. Dark is out of control."

"Dark was never in our control. But if he's on anyone's side, he's on ours. He says he'll help solve our Indian and Goth problems. Just stay out of his way and we'll be there to pick up the pieces."

"I still say we don't need him."

"And he doesn't care if we need him or not. He's involved, and we can take advantage of that. Don't provoke him, he's deadly; but keep your eyes on him. We have mutual interests but I don't trust him."

"What does our inside man think of Dark?"

"He's amused, according to Frank."

"Amused? He's a pretty cool character for a damn redskin, ain't he. Dark scares the piss out of me."

"Frank has great confidence in his Indian friend, and despite his obvious shortcomings Frank is a good judge of poor character," his uncle insisted.

"OK, I'll grant you that Skunk is a pretty good judge of poor character, seeing how it takes one to know one, but I'm still not sure exactly what's cooking on that Reservation. Our inside man is improvising, since Johnny Goth showed up."

"As we all are, Barns. That's how we will win."

Barns shook his head in frustration. "I still don't like it. There's too many things happening and too many people involved. It's getting all too fucking complicated."

Fenster smiled. "Certainly. That's what will make it impossible for Goth and the Tribe to handle everything. It's like throwing a whole batch of rattlesnakes at them all at once. They're going to get bit for sure. And we'll be there to give them an extra kick in the head and get what we want."

****

CHAPTER 11

NIGHTMARES

Dark had hidden Ned and Dooley and was now moving towards Goth Mountain.

Both his captives still lived. The human had resisted all his efforts to obtain information. Dark had backed off before killing him, because if he lived longer he would suffer more, and possibly give him useful information. Dooley Simple would tell him everything, in time.

The shape shifter he could use as a hostage, should some of the goat man's powerful friends appear. But most important, he was bait, to ensure that others of the People would appear. He had been searching world-wide for their hiding place off and on for centuries, and he felt certain that this time he was close to finding it. This time when he faced them he would be ready.

Now Dark hungered, and needed to again feed. He hadn't expected to find anyone until he got to the Goth place or the Reservation, but in the forest he chanced across two men, hunting out of season. He howled in delight.

"What the hell was that?" asked the taller one. "It wasn't a damned Sasquatch, we've heard them before."

"A wolf then," the other one replied. "Let's get the son-of-a-bitch."

"That wasn't no wolf."

"I don't give a shit what it is, let's get it. We ain't seen no fresh bear sign today, but this critter will do just fine. Its head will fit on my wall no matter what it is." He removed the high-powered rifle from his shoulder sling and hand signaled an advance towards the wooded hill where the howl had seemed to come from.

They had taken only a few steps when a second spine-tingling howl erupted from behind them, much closer than the first. The hunters stopped in their tracks, uncertain now as to which way to proceed.

Howling erupted from the left of them, then from the right, so close that they should have been able to see the creatures. They saw nothing.

"They're hunting us, Clevis!" said the taller hunter. "The hell with this!" He turned to retrace his path, took two steps, and froze.

Five meters in front of him stood a nightmarish apparition from out of a werewolf movie, a huge, black, hairy, wolf-man creature standing on its back legs, massive wolf head snarling, sharp white teeth dripping streams of frothy saliva and glowing red eyes squinting at him, full of hate. It dropped down onto clawed front feet and charged on all fours with impossible speed and power, blood-red eyes fixed on its prey's eyes, freezing the man in terror.

The hapless hunter started to scream and raise his gun but in moments was crushed to the ground as huge jaws snapped shut on his neck and completely tore off his head, then in a frenzy of sadistic viciousness tore apart the lifeless body with tooth and claw, filling the air with splashes of blood and bits of shredded human flesh, bone and internal organs.

Clevis stood in silent shock for the few moments it took for his brother to be massacred, but then charged towards the horrific scene, madly screaming as he shot bullet after bullet into the nightmarish creature, emptying the rifle, but with no visible effect.

The monster ignored him completely until he was almost on top of it, then looked up at him with its terrible red eyes and spoke to him with perfect clarity. "You're next, Clevis," it hissed, before rearing back its bloody head and howling into the air, a sound like the torture of a thousand lost souls.

The useless rifle dropped from his limp, trembling hands as Clevis turned to run, sobbing and babbling incoherently.

Dark could taste the fleeing man's delicious terror, feel his gasps for breath and sense his pounding heart. Almost casually, he crushed his first victim's skull, ripped it open, and ate the bloody brain in great chunks. He took his time in order to give his second victim a really good head start. Then he set off swiftly on all fours after him, howling, reveling in his dark power. But not too swiftly. Such pleasures shouldn't be rushed.

****

"George Running Buck, I must talk to you," said Summer Buck, through the locked door of the Chief's office.

"Go away," replied the Chief, through the door. "I will not talk to you."

"You sound upset, my friend. Let us talk."

"No. Show him out, Tall Fox."

Tall Fox, who had been standing impassively with the Elder in the outer office, shrugged. "I told you the Chief didn't want to be disturbed, Old One. He is upset about the Council Meeting that has been called."

"That is why I must talk to him."

"I guess you'll just have to wait." He motioned towards the door, smiling, but not friendly.

Shaking his head in dismay, the old man left. He had wanted to talk with Running Buck before the Meeting. Being refused audience with him was unprecedented, and did not speak well of Running Buck. Could Small Bear be right about him? Was it possible?

****

Fred Simple searched the shop for the fifth time, hoping to find that Dooley had returned or to find some clue as to where he had been taken, but again he found nothing.

Was Barns right? Had Dooley simply gone on one of his excursions without telling him? It would be unlike Dooley to do that while he was home, but it was possible. Or had Dark truly returned last night for Dooley? He thought he remembered that happen, but was no longer certain. All the events of last night seemed unreal, so much like a bad dream that maybe that's all that they were.

He decided to look for Dooley where Dooley usually went, in the countryside between town and the Reservation. He drove his old car towards Goth Mountain. An hour later he was hiking through wooded foothills when he heard a siren nearby. Police maybe? He walked towards the sound and found two police cars, an ambulance, and three other vehicles parked along an old logging road, probably the greatest concentration of people there since the logging days.

"Dooley?" Simple mouthed repeatedly, as he made for the ambulance at the best speed his wobbly legs could take him.

A medic was retrieving a stretcher from the back of the ambulance when he reached it. The wide-eyed man had a haunted look. "Has someone been hurt?" Simple asked him.

"Hurt! Christ no, butchered!" The man paused and turned away, then puked, or tried to, but could only heave convulsively a stomach that had already recently been emptied. "This stretcher is for the rest of the body pieces," he said, after recovering. "Two people, it looks like. Men, we think."

Simple could only stand there, his head spinning. His fault, it was all his fault. He had brought Dark here, or rather his book had. His one proud professional achievement had murdered his son.

Another stretcher was being carried out of the woods by grim-faced men; a blood-soaked blanket poorly concealed the lumps of body that it held.

Fred Simple couldn't think anything anymore, he didn't even notice when his own legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

When he opened his eyes a vaguely familiar, attractive, middle-aged woman was kneeling next to him and staring at him attentively. A name popped into his head. "Ann Goth?" he asked, uncertainly. The last time she had seen Ann Goth was when he went to the Goth cabin to complain about how much time Dooley was spending with that Goth boy. What was his name? But that had been more than a decade ago!

"Hello Fred," she replied, smiling. "It's been a very long time."

"It's my fault. Dooley, bless his soul, I should have been here more. My poor boy!"

"Fred, I saw the bodies. It was not Dooley."

"What?"

"The bodies are not Dooley, I am certain."

"How could you be?"

"I am positive."

"She's right, Simple," said another voice. The pale face of Sheriff Barns came into view. "It looks like it was two of my cousins, Clevis and Mike Larkin. That's their truck and it was their rifles we found near the remains."

"I'm sorry," offered Ann.

"Did I hear right? Your name is Ann Goth?"

"That's right," she admitted, as she stood and faced the sheriff. "And you would be?"

"Sheriff Barns." They shook hands mechanically, while sizing each other up.

"It looks like you have two murders on your hands, Sheriff," said Ann.

The Sheriff visibly shuddered but then recovered. "Must have been a bear. A hunting accident."

"We both know better than that."

"Had to be a bear; nothing else could have done it."

"Dark!" exclaimed Simple, standing up. "What if it was that monster Dark! It was Dark that took my Dooley!"

"That's crazy talk," said Barns. "No human being could have done what was done to those men. But in any case, this is a dangerous place. A mad bear is someplace around here still, I'd wager. I strongly advise the both of you to leave the entire area until this thing is solved. Portland is the closest big city."

"I'm going to look for my son until I find him," stated Simple, resolutely.

"Ditto," seconded Ann, though it was uncertain if she meant Dooley or Johnny or both.

Barns shrugged and waved his hand towards the forest. "It's your funeral. Help yourselves." He climbed into his squad car and drove away.

"Your Dooley is missing?" asked Ann.

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure that Dark took him. I had been working my way through the woods towards the Reservation, hoping Dooley would turn up, when I stumbled onto this bloody business. God, I just thought it had to be Dooley."

"Does Dooley still hang out around the Reservation?"

"Quite a bit. The shaman there must see more of him than I do. I've been a lousy father. It's all my fault that Dark took him."

"Come with me to the Reservation. The Tribe will help you, I'm sure. And for certain I will."

"You'll help me?"

"I'll certainly do whatever I can, Professor."

His legs almost gave away again, this time in part from relief, and Ann had to help him walk to the rental car. He had felt so helpless, so totally alone. Now someone would help him!

"Sit in the back, Angela," said Ann. "Professor Simple isn't feeling well."

Angela stepped out of the car for the first time. Simple and two other men within eyesight, a deputy and a medic, openly gawked at her. Not too many women in that part of the country dressed and looked like Angela. "We have to take him with us? Whatever for?"

"To help him, Angela. You wouldn't understand."

Angela muttered complaints, but went along with it.

Soon Ann was driving towards Goth Mountain again. "If it isn't too upsetting, tell me about Dark, Professor."

****

Barns was again talking with Bill Fenster. "Did you hear what I said, Fenster? If I catch Dark I'm going to shoot that fucking lunatic. He had no call to kill my cousins. They were good men, both of them."

"You know for a fact it was Dark?"

"I'm positive. I saw what looked like giant wolf tracks, and I doubt that even a bear could or would do what was done to my cousins. It looks like their brains and hearts were eaten, and the rest of them were torn to bits."

"They weren't driving logging equipment or wearing Sheriff's Department uniforms, were they?"

"Clevis and Mike? Of course not. They moved the logging equipment in during the dead of night, like you ordered. They were murdered many hours later."

"Then Dark didn't break our agreement."

"He killed my cousins, damn it, shredded them to bloody bits! He's a homicidal maniac!"

"But he's OUR homicidal maniac. What happened to your cousins is unfortunate, but let's wait to see what damage he does to the Tribe and to Goth. Besides, I don't think you could stop him if you tried."

"Really? Are you starting to believe in that magic crap?"

"Let's just say I have acquired a healthy respect for it. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Do you know an Ann Goth?"

"Johnny's mother. Not listed as Mort's heir but probably is Johnny's heir by state law. Sure, I remember her. Tough little bitch. Why?"

"She showed up at the murder site. She seems to be headed for a family reunion with Johnny at the Goth place."

"Great. One more complication we don't need."

"She took Simple with her, and a young woman named Angela Welborne was with her. A real looker. One of my deputies spoke with her briefly."

"Welborne? I do pulp business with a Los Angeles industrialist named Welborne, I wonder if there's a connection? Seems unlikely. Could she be a lawyer?"

"She looked more like an expensive hooker. I'll check up on her."

"Of course you will, and so will I. The first rule in any game is to know all the players."

****

CHAPTER 12

ANN GOTH RETURNS

Elizabeth was bored and anxious. She fed the pets and explored the cabin, barn, garden, and edge of the surrounding forest for the third time while she waited to hear from Johnny.

She had just returned again to the cabin when an unfamiliar car moved up the driveway and parked next to Johnny's car. Looking out a window, she saw two women and a man get out: a small, attractive, middle-aged woman, and a young, stunning blonde bombshell, appearing totally out of place in her clinging dress, high heels, permed hairdo, and tons of makeup. The middle aged man was short, very stout, and unsteady on his feet. Elizabeth had no idea who any of them could possibly be, but they had all gotten past a half-dozen armed Tribesmen at the front gate, so she knew that they must have legitimate business here.

She opened the door and met them as they approached the cabin, the older woman in the lead.

"You are Elizabeth, we were told at the gate about you," said the stranger, smiling as her piercing eyes studied her closely. "We were told that you are the Tribe teacher and are living here at the cabin temporarily, but not much else. The guards at the gate were surprised to see me here, to say the least. I'm Ann Goth, Johnny's mother."

"Mrs. Goth!" said a stunned Elizabeth, as they shook hands firmly. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you!"

"It figures there's a woman here," snipped the second stranger coldly. "Johnny's a real woman magnet, isn't he? I should know, I'm Angela Welborne, Johnny's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" muttered Elizabeth numbly, as Angela walked past her into the cabin, ignoring her outstretched hand, but watching her closely, a cruel sneer on her lips.

"He didn't bother to mention me, I see."

"The subject wouldn't have come up. I simply rent a room here."

"How convenient," Angela quipped.

"And this is Dooley Simple's father, Professor Fred Simple," Ann told Elizabeth.

"Glad to finally meet you, young lady," Simple said, as he shook hands with Elizabeth. "Dooley has said many very positive things about you. He didn't tell me about the trees with faces and all this other amazing stuff." He waved a hand to indicate the cabin and its surroundings. "I'd also sure like to see your art covered car at some point."

"Dooley is always talking about you, Professor," returned Elizabeth warmly. "Dooley is an amazing young man."

Simple's smile disappeared in an instant. "Yes," he agreed. "Dooley is very special."

"Where are Johnny and Mort?" Ann asked Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Goth; Mort died several days ago."

"Died!" Ann sat down heavily in one of the living room chairs, her face ashen.

Angela, who was walking around the room looking at everything, with an increasingly sour expression on her face, didn't react at all.

Elizabeth sat down across from Ann. "Yes. That's why Johnny was contacted, I understand. I gather that he inherits this property."

Angela laughed. "This dump couldn't be worth much!"

Ann frowned at Angela. "This land is worth a great deal in terms of dollars, but it's priceless to the Tribe. I take it that some sort of attempted land grab is underway, judging from the logging equipment staged at the foot of the driveway and the armed Tribesmen. Fenster equipment, I bet. And Johnny is the new Goth and in the middle of it."

"That and worse," confirmed Elizabeth. "Johnny is in the forest beyond the inner gate at some sort of Tribal healing place, trying to keep Two Bears alive. Great Two Bears has been shot."

"There's more trouble still," added the Professor. "I came here because an evil man named Dark took my Dooley. Mrs. Goth said she would try to help me. I suspect that Dark is also behind butchering a couple of men only a few miles down the valley from here. There's no telling what he's done with my poor Dooley."

"That's terrible," said a shocked Elizabeth. "We'll all help. Dooley has many friends in town and on the Reservation, including me. We already know about Dark. But why would Dark take Dooley?"

"Even as a child, Dooley was very special," said Ann. "I'm sure that Dark would detect that, if he is what I fear he is."

"Johnny said that Dark is evil," said Elizabeth. "In town he shook Johnny's hand and they were suddenly sort of arm wrestling. Johnny had just beaten up four biker gang toughs without working up a sweat, but shaking hands with Dark was far worse. Then there was an explosion of light that pushed them apart. That surprised Dark and he backed away. But from the way Dark acted and what he said, Dark is very interested in seeing Johnny again."

Ann nodded thoughtfully. "And right now Johnny is preoccupied and vulnerable, and obviously, so are Two Bears and the Tribe. I'm going to him and Two Bears now."

"What about Dooley?" asked Simple.

"I'll also get Tribal help for him, Fred, don't worry. Stay here and rest. I'll let you know when I find out anything more."

"Well, I'm certainly going with you," said Angela.

"No, I'm going alone," stated Ann forcefully, as she walked to the door.

"No way," complained Angela, following her. "I didn't come all this way to miss out on whatever is happening."

Ann turned her steely-eyed gaze to Angela. "You can stay here at the cabin for now, if that's alright with Elizabeth, or you can take the car and go back to California. There's crisis and danger here that I hadn't expected, or I wouldn't have brought you here in the first place. Everything is changed now, and you're not part of it."

"Nothing has changed at all and I'm a big part of it. I came here to find Johnny and bring him back with me. If he has inherited this property we can have lawyers and realtors take care of selling it."

"All that is highly unlikely," stated Ann. She pushed through the big front door and slammed it shut in Angela's face.

Angela stood shaking with anger for a few moments before she could do anything else at all. Then she exploded. "Who the hell does she think she is?"

Elizabeth managed to not respond, but she watched with amusement as Angela struggled to reopen the heavy door and ran out in search of Ann. Even if by marriage, Ann was a Goth, there was no doubt of that. If she didn't want this Angela woman to follow her, then she wouldn't, Elizabeth had no doubt about that either.

Angela had been a huge shock to Elizabeth; not only the fact that she was engaged to Johnny but the fact that Johnny would have anything to do with such a woman at all. She was obviously very attractive physically, but it seemed to her that was as far as her beauty want. Wouldn't Johnny see that?

Elizabeth resumed tidying up around the cabin, and Simple was avidly examining wood carvings of creatures real and mythical when Angela came storming back into the cabin. "I need the key," she announced tersely, as she held out her hand to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth continued tidying up. "What key would that be?"

"For that damned big gate in the woods!"

"Only the Goths and the Tribe Shaman have the key to the inner gate."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care what you believe."

"What's inside that fence? Why the hell is there a fence at all?"

Elizabeth didn't answer, but started washing dishes in the sink.

"I demand that you answer me, you little moron," shouted Angela.

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Mostly deciding what to do about you. Throwing you out on your ass is number one on my list of possibilities right about now." She stopped fussing with the dishes, turned on Angela, and stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with her. "Or, you could leave on your own power, or you could sit down and shut up, but I've had about all I can take from you. This is my home."

"This is Johnny's property and I'm his fiancée."

"I don't care who the hell you are. I'm not Johnny's property and I'm certainly not yours. You're in my apartment. Sit down and shut up or get out. Now."

Angela spun on her heal and marched outside to the rental car, got in, and slammed the door shut.

She considered driving away, but then remembered that Ann had the keys. This wasn't going as she had imagined it would. She had expected to simply use her sex appeal on Johnny and bring him back to LA, away from Goth Mountain and from his mother. Now she knew that she needed something else, some other angle to work, but had no idea what it might be.

Her cell phone rang. "My name is Bill Fenster, Ms. Welborne," said the caller. "I'm a long time business acquaintance of your father and I'm very interested in acquiring the Goth property and its timber."

"How very interesting!"

"I'm also interested in finding out more about what else is contained on the property."

"You and me both."

"That's why I called. I surmise that we may have some common interests."

"And what if we do?"

"I just talked with your father. You're not interested in your Johnny becoming a hermit on Goth Mountain, or in living on the Mountain with him. Like any normal person you're interested in cash and climbing the social ladder while living in a more civilized area than the Northwest. Mountains and even box companies don't interest you much, do they? I, on the other hand, make my living developing properties like Goth Mountain. I could take it off your hands and we could both greatly profit from it."

"What would you have me do?"

"Get your Johnny and his mother away from Goth Mountain. As well as that woman Winters that rents a room there."

"I was planning on doing all that anyway, but it will be difficult. Much more difficult than I thought."

"You can also help me in other ways."

"First, what's in it for me?"

"We can reduce risk for each other, and minimize potential losses."

"That sounds a little fuzzy."

"How does a half of a million in cash sound? It would be yours as a bonus, in addition to whatever Johnny wants for the place, which would be much more than that."

"OK, now I'm listening."

"To start, simply keep your eyes open and tell me what's happening. What are the Goths and the Tribe doing now?"

"Both Goths are in the woods looking after some Indian guy that's been shot. Other Indians are hanging out all over the place, with rifles. Simple and Winters are in the cabin."

"Very good! Where in the woods did the Goths go? Why did they take the wounded Indian into the woods?"

"I don't know. They went through a big fence that I can't get through and walked towards the mountain, into a forest of big trees."

"Big trees? How big?"

"I don't know. Huge. Biggest I've ever seen and I've seen Sequoias."

"How wide are the trunks?"

"Five to fifteen feet across maybe. Some bigger, maybe. I didn't pay much attention. They looked even bigger, beyond the second fence."

"Bigger than fifteen feet in diameter? How many trees that big?"

"How the hell would I know? Hundreds, maybe thousands."

"Thousands," mumbled Fenster. Millions of board-feet of virgin timber, and it would soon be his! And what else? What was it that drew the Tribe there, and Dark? Surely Dark has no interest in trees. "Can you tell me anything else?"

"I've only been here fifteen lousy minutes, and I do mean lousy."

"OK. Keep your eyes and ears open and I'll call again later. If you come up with something that helps me get that timber, you'll be richly rewarded. If you find out about other things of value on the property, I'd be very interested in that also."

"Other things?"

"Come now, Ms. Welborne, even if you've been there only a short time, you must have already sensed something unusual about that place, and about the Goths. I haven't seen Johnny since he returned, but I bet he's something special, like old Mort was. Somehow the key to it all is that Mountain, and I'd like to know exactly what that key is."

"I'll let you know what I find out, but you'll have to make it worth my effort."

"I can do that. I'm a very wealthy businessman, Ms Welborne. Talk to your father, he can verify my credentials."

"I'll do that."

"Very well then. Good luck."

****

CHAPTER 13

DOOLEY FRIENDS

"It's closed, Sheriff," said deputy Kensworth, as he climbed into the squad car's driver seat.

"Closed?" Barns sat up taller in the shotgun seat with a more ornery than usual scowl and eyeballed his deputy. "That's fucking impossible! It's a Seven-fucking-Eleven for Christ sakes!"

"Doors are locked and the closed sign is out, Boss. Not to mention no customers."

"Well I'll be damned! OK, let's swing by Woody's. We need to get us some coffee some damn place, even if it ain't good coffee. I'm not going out there to them hills again without my damn coffee."

The parking lot at Woody's Stop-And-Go was also empty and the 'closed' sign was out, but a hand-written note was also in the window. "Gone looking for Dooley," is what it said, but that wasn't all it said. It was signed 'Artistic License' in fancy cursive lettering.

"Son of a bitch!" swore Barns. A few calls to people around town verified his suspicions. The word was out all over town that Dooley Simple had been kidnapped by the mad killer that had murdered the Larkin brothers, and that the damn Sheriff wasn't doing anything about it. Dooley friends by the dozens were taking to the woods, armed with rifles, hunting dogs, and apparently all available coffee. Some of them were said to belong to some sort of militant artist collective called Artistic License.

"Voters too, damn it, the whole lot of them," Barns complained to Fenster. "I'll have to divert a couple of squads to join the hunt for that damned moron Dooley, or I'll be shit in this November's elections.

"Alright, but when we move on the Goth place we'll need all the men we can get. In the meantime let's try to turn that mob out looking for Dooley in our favor. Start rumors that the Indians are behind both the killings and the Dooley kidnapping, and that the Goths are in cahoots with them. But coffee or no coffee, get your ass up to the front gate of the Goth place and be ready to move through it with the loggers at any time. Tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest, we'll be cutting Goth timber."

****

Johnny knew that she was there in the Holy Forest and coming to him long before she arrived. His awareness had been increasing since arriving at Goth Mountain. Now he could feel all the life around him, the trees, the forest creatures, and even the living soil. He had experienced hints of this throughout his life, but now the ability was magnified many-fold.

With his eyes closed, he could visualize the forest around him, a many-dimensional universe teeming with life. What he sensed was similar to what he saw using normal eyesight but also very different. Colors and shapes were different. Plants and animals were of a different substance and texture. Images of trees and other plant life were steady and well defined, though translucent, while animals pulsed stronger, but with less distinct boundaries, as though their life forces were centered in their bodies, but not strictly confined to them. The soil was teeming sea of tiny entities, uncountable in number. Even the air was alive, a thin, swirling broth of living dust.

Most strongly of all he could sense the sentient presence of other humans; their minds shone like beacons. The human approaching him now blazed unusually strong with life force.

" _Hello Mother_ ," he pathed when she arrived, without opening his eyes. He felt that he could sense her even better with his eyes closed.

" _Greetings, White Wolf_ ," she pathed in return.

"Ann Goth!" exclaimed White Dove aloud. She had been resting on a cot, but when she saw Ann enter the hollow tree sanctuary she stood and rushed to hug her.

Her hugs were returned in kind. "Mary, my Tribe Sister, I have missed you so much!"

"I am so relieved that you are here!" gushed White Dove. "I didn't dare hope it, but here you are! Johnny, our prayers are answered!"

"How bad is he?" Ann asked. "Never mind, it's quicker if I see for myself," she added, as she knelt next to Two Bears. "And don't act surprised Johnny. I've kept you and I healthy over the years, haven't I?"

"Your mother is the best healer the Tribe ever had," added Mary.

Johnny was surprised, but as he reflected on it, many things began to fall into place. His mother had trained as a nurse before she met Mark Goth, and she still worked as a nurse back in Ohio. " _That's why you let me keep the watch, isn't it Mother_ ," he pathed. " _The watch helped you with your powers as well as mine_."

" _Yes, in part. It has helped me to save many lives over the years_ ," she replied. " _Quiet now, let me focus_."

For several minutes Ann examined Two Bears. Johnny could feel her strong presence moving deep within the ailing shaman, particularly in heart and spine areas. " _You haven't tried to help Mary with her healing_?"

" _No. I've been afraid that I'd be clumsy and overwhelm her control_."

" _Sensible, but I think you could safely help me. We can combine your strength with my control_."

" _I'm new at this_."

" _That's my fault. I was so afraid for you that I tried to keep you totally away from this place and from using your powers._ "

" _I love you Mother, but I'll never again leave this place. I was meant to be here; I knew that as soon as I returned. There is so much I still don't understand, but I understand that much already._ "

" _We'll talk about that later. You're learning very fast. Now together we can help Two Bears rebuild himself. I'll begin and you'll slowly join in. Do what I do, and I'll guide you every step of the way_."

The time for word-based communication was past, as Johnny watched his mother accelerate the healing that Mary had started. Nourished by side-streams of blood, cells by the billions divided, building more cells, building blocks of several types that gradually reformed muscles, nerves, blood vessels, and other components.

Johnny didn't know the details of the desired structures, but his mother evidently did. Tentatively at first, he followed her lead, helping her stimulate and nourish cell division, building the raw materials for her intricate sculpturing.

The shaping of heart muscles, chambers, blood vessels, and nerves had to be done with the end product always in mind. Muscles and valves would all have to work together in a complex and efficient manner, requiring careful structuring of all of the components.

As the great heart took shape, refilling the torn cavity, circulating blood through it became more and more complex. The route of the surging blood had to be changed almost constantly by Johnny.

Mary White Dove joined in, actively addressing clotting and other problems throughout the rest of the body and observing with awe the heart-building efforts of the Goths. What they were accomplishing together each minute would have taken her many hours to duplicate.

At last, an hour after they started, the entire heart had taken form, though the muscles were still much less than full strength. Johnny moved blood through the open valves.

" _A little more mass to the heart muscles and we can try it out_ ," pathed Ann.

" _No reason to hurry on my account_ ," replied Johnny, who sensed that she was beginning to tire.

" _There is, Johnny; we have to get Two Bears to the point where you can leave us. I can't circulate his blood, so the heart has to be well enough to function at a low level_."

With that, they returned to healing, adding layer after layer of heart muscle. After twenty minutes more, enough had been rebuilt for it to function. The neural pathway to the brain was opened, and the heart began to slowly beat! The next few minutes were the most hectic of all, as Ann made delicate adjustments and corrections and Johnny very gently still helped to circulate blood.

Finally, Johnny withdrew altogether, followed by Ann. As a smiling Mary White Dove closely monitored Two Bears, Johnny and his mother stepped away from their patient and embraced warmly.

"White Hope, that was amazing," said Johnny, using his Mother's Indian name for the first time in fourteen years.

"I'm very proud of you also, Johnny. Mary and I should be able to take care of him now. In two or three hours he should be able to help himself also. With luck he'll be up and around by tomorrow. Meanwhile, you have other things to do."

"What new disaster am I needed for?"

Ann told her son about Dooley. "I don't think you should try to take on Dark yourself, Johnny. I think he's similar to the People, only evil, or maybe he's even an elemental, like Pru. The tribe has old legends about such a creature, and I think this is him."

Johnny nodded his head and took out his father's watch. Pru was the name of the unicorn that most often visited the Mountain, he remembered, a creature of power whose likeness adorned the watch. The black eyes of the unicorn on the watch almost seemed to be alive. "How can we tell the People that we need their help?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you can do it using your watch. Your father or Mort or Two Bears would probably know, and Ned would certainly know. Where is Ned? He fetched you from California, didn't he?"

Johnny's jaw dropped. "Ned was with Dooley. If Dark has done something with Dooley, he must have also done something with Ned, or we would have heard from him before now. We have no time or means to summon any other help. I must go after them myself." He gave his Mother a quick hug and exited the hollow log.

Ann followed him outside. "Johnny, if Dark is who I fear he is, he'll have great powers: more than your own, I fear. Avoid him if you can, and remember that your own powers are greatest near Goth Mountain, near the Source."

"Sometime soon someone should explain to me what the Source is, Mother," he replied and then he disappeared down the trail.

Ann, shaking her head, returned to administering healing to Two Bears. There was so much Johnny had yet to learn. " _One more thing Johnny_ ," she pathed. " _Dooley's father and Angela Welborne are at the cabin with Elizabeth._ "

" _Fudge,_ " replied Johnny, but as he ran through the forest he quickly dismissed further thought on that matter. He had to focus on rescuing Dooley and Ned - or avenging them.

****

CHAPTER 14

COUNCIL MEETING

Small Bear arrived at the Village Town Hall only minutes before the Tribe council meeting was scheduled to begin. Horses, mules, and donkeys outside the Hall far outnumbered the few dozen old trucks and autos that were present, but most of the Tribe would have come on foot.

Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere was tense. Over a thousand people stood in small groups talking and often arguing loudly in both English and Indian about whether or not they believed vicious rumors that Chief George Running Buck had sold out to Fenster and attempted to have Two Bears murdered.

Small Bear made his way towards the center of the big room, where a table with a dozen folding chairs around it sat atop a low wooden platform designed to elevate the Council two feet above the bare stone floor. Five of the elevated chairs were empty. The empty seats were for the Chief, Police Chief, Shaman, the Goth, and one of the other Council members: Mary White Dove. Small Bear sat down in his seat.

Summer Buck nodded at Small Bear and briefly raised his right hand, and the remaining Council Members stopped talking with each other and turned their attentions to Summer Buck. "I tried to talk with Chief George," Summer Buck stated. "He refused to see me. Imagine a Chief refusing to see a Council member? It is unthinkable!"

"That would tend to confirm my worst fears," Small Bear remarked.

"I still want to hear what George has to say for himself," said another Council Member. "I've been hearing what Small Bear says that George said, and maybe did say, but I still have not heard what George has to say from his own lips. Let him look into our eyes and say what is true."

"That has not yet happened because he will not talk to any of us," claimed another of the Council, shaking his head sadly. "In all the years I've known our brother Running Buck, he has never before refused our council."

"Small Bear told me that Running Buck is ashamed to look us in the eye," said a third.

Summer Buck, by far the oldest of them, again spoke. Everyone in earshot quieted and strained to hear his every word. "Small Bear says far too much. He spoke behind the back of our brother Chief George Running Buck, and behind ours. These charges against Running Buck should have been first made before Running Buck and before this Council, so that we could judge the truth in the words that both would say. That is our way.

"Instead, all the people talk of it now in fear and ignorance, and point fingers this way and that. That is not the way of the Tribe. Running Bear is wrong to avoid us, but Small Bear was wrong to avoid the ways of our people. Always has he done this, when it suites him."

"You opposed Small Bear becoming Police Chief, over an old petty grievance," said a much younger man. "Yet he has been a good Police Chief." Several nods occurred around the table. "Perhaps not so strong in the old ways as some would want, but strong as a force against trouble-makers. He stands up to Barns and Fenster."

"Bah!" said Summer Buck. "He is too quick to use force instead of wisdom. The young people fear him instead of respecting him, and some say that the drinking and drugs of the Tribe are worse than ever."

Small Bear appeared impassive while his fellow Council members talked about him as if he wasn't there. It was an unusual thing to occur. He looked to Summer Buck and found that the old man was staring at him with a little grin on his face. He gave a little nod of his head to the old man, acknowledging the subtle lesson: don't talk about Council members behind their backs.

"Still I say he has been a good Police Chief," repeated the young man. "And we are here to talk to Running Buck, not to discuss Small Bear. Then there are the other happenings to discuss."

"I don't think we should decide too much today," said Summer Buck, as he looked about at the worried faces that gathered in the hall. "With two Goths healing Two Bears, our great shaman should be back with us very soon. The wisdom and strength of Great Two Bears is needed to help address our many problems, and the Goth should also be present. But the issue of Running Buck we should be able to address now. What is keeping Running Buck? It's not like him to be late."

"I will go fetch him," Small Bear stood and announced, before leaving the hall. Conversation resumed around the table.

After only a few minutes a grim Small Bear surged in alone by way of a back door and aggressively made his way through the crowd and onto the platform. Chief George was still nowhere to be seen. The Police Chief raised his arms in the air in a gesture to gain attention and bring silence throughout the hall. Most of the crowd quieted and sat on the floor to hear Small Bear speak.

"Before the Tribe and Council it is my sad duty to tell you what has come to pass this day. I have just now been to the lodge of Chief George Running Buck. My people, I am sorry to tell you that when I went to fetch him I found that our great Chief is dead."

Sitting people jumped to their feet with cries of anguish and outrage. Standing people sank to their knees in shock. Women and children cried and wailed. The Council sat in stunned silence, heads shaking and tears welling.

Small Bear raised his hands again and waited patiently for the chaos to subside, and then his deep voice rang out again. "My people, in the absence of a shaman, I have already performed prayers at his side, so that his soul may find what peace it can, but what I have to show you now will make you doubt that any such peace is possible for our departed brother." More women wailed and were then again silent except for crying sobs that could not be constrained.

Small Bear pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket, unfolded it and held it up for all to see. "I found this note by his side. It reads as follows: 'My people; I George Running Buck have failed you. I sought to bring the prosperity of the white man to our people. I could not bear to see our children go without enough food and books and our young people to go without jobs. I looked to the future and saw the slow end of our people, if I were to do nothing.'" People were shaking their heads and crying. "'I decided to break with the past, and to remove he who stood in my way: Great Two Bears.'" Angry shouts and wailing broke out again, and would not be stopped.

"I don't believe it," shouted one man. "Chief George would not betray us or Two Bears." Heated arguments broke out in the crowd. All their lives they had their fellow Tribe members to love and trust and live together with, through good times and bad. Now all of that seemed to be crumbling around them. Their loved and trusted Chief had declared himself to be a murderous traitor and coward.

"I only read what I have found," shouted Small Bear in reply, holding his hands up again, but the crowd would not be silent. Small Bear passed the note to Summer Buck, and he and several other Council Members studied it carefully.

At last Summer Buck rose on shaky old legs and raised his own small wrinkled hands. Silence returned almost instantly, but for a few muffled sobs. "This looks like Chief George's hand writing, though it is shaky. Is there still more, Small Bear?"

"Yes. First, there was an empty bottle of white man sleeping pills and there were no marks to be found on his body. Running Buck took his own life by eating the sleeping pills."

More wails and shouts filled the air. Within the Tribe, suicide was unknown. To commit suicide using white-man drugs was an unthinkable act. Summer Buck had to put up his hands again to regain enough silence for Small Bear to continue. "There is one last thing. Tall Fox and Night Hawk are nowhere to be found. It is my belief that they acted as agents of George Running Buck to try to murder Two Bears, and now with his fall they have fled, perhaps to Fenster. I have already sent men out to find them." Several angry looking braves made quickly for the exits, obviously with the intent of joining in the man-hunt.

Summer Buck turned to face Small Bear. His voice could barely be heard through the chaos. "There are important things that the Council must discuss with you now, Small Bear. There are many questions to ask you as our Chief of Police about the attack on Two Bears and the death of Running Buck, and we must consider your new situation. By our laws you are now both acting Chief and acting Shaman, in addition to being Police Chief."

At that moment though, an armed brave ran into the Hall. "The Holy Healing Cabin of the Fallen Giant is under attack!" he shouted. "It's on fire!"

"They're after Two Bears and the Goths again!" roared Small Bear. "It's Running Buck's men!"

As Small Bear joined the crowd of braves scrambling towards the doors, old Summer Buck stood alone at the table, his small wrinkled hands raised again in a totally hopeless attempt to regain order as he sadly shook his head.

****

"What did he want?" asked Angela, who had been sitting quietly in the cabin, fussing with her makeup and snickering at Elizabeth. Elizabeth had run out of dirty dishes and was furiously dusting and sweeping to keep from going crazy. Simple had followed her example by cleaning and polishing woodcarvings, studying each piece carefully as he did so.

Abruptly a tribesman burst into the cabin, grabbed the two water buckets that Elizabeth was using for cleaning, and ran out of the cabin, splashing dirty water out of them as he went, the whole time shouting only one word by way of explanation, over and over again. It wasn't so much what he said as his obvious urgency that had led Elizabeth to not hinder him in any way. It was obviously an emergency situation.

"Fire; the Indian word for fire, that's what he was shouting," explained Elizabeth, after a minute's thought.

"Fire?" asked Simple. "What fire? Where?"

The three of them went outside to look, and were just in time to see additional tribesmen take four more buckets and three shovels from the barn and run towards the inner gate with them. More Tribe members by the dozen, men women and older children, were streaming out of the woods and through a breach that had been torn in the fence near the still locked gate. Many carried buckets, shovels, and blankets.

"Look," said Professor Simple excitedly, pointing towards the Mountain. Above the tree line towards the Mountain, a cloud of black smoke was streaming into the clear blue sky. Something was burning in the Holly Forest.

"Johnny!" exclaimed Elizabeth, as she started down the path towards the gate, followed hesitantly by Simple and Angela. An armed guard turned the three of them back. Whatever was happening beyond the inner fence, only Tribe members were allowed to go to see it.

Now that they were outside, the unmistakable sounds of heavy machinery could be heard in the direction of the outer gate.

Elizabeth ran into the cabin and to the ancient telephone and quickly dialed her cell phone, expecting Mary, or even Johnny or Ann, to answer it. Instead a mechanical sounding recorded voice informed her that the number dialed was not in service. That didn't make sense. She had turned it on herself and put it in the purse-like bag that Mary always carried. Then she realized that signal strength must be too low on the remote mountain to support cell phones.

She phoned Chief George's office but nobody answered there either. She took a deep calming breath and settled down in an oversized chair. There was nothing she could do; she had to trust that Johnny and the Tribe were informed and handling everything.

Angela retreated to her rental car, but Simple returned to the cabin, where he picked up a wood carving of a unicorn and was studying it carefully. "I can hardly believe it. I've been researching myths and legends of the Northwest for years, and here's evidence right in this cabin that I never even suspected. You must have seen the trees along the driveway, with faces grown into them. These carvings are Indian made, I'd swear it, and some aren't very old. But this one looks like it may be hundreds of years old. How would Native Americans know about unicorns before being contacted by Europeans?"

Elizabeth suppressed a sudden impulse to tell Simple what she knew or suspected about Goth and shaman powers. It would probably blow his socks off. But no, that would only mean trouble for everyone. "I think we should focus on Dooley now. Why don't you phone the police or some friends in town? Maybe he's shown up at home and we don't even know it." And maybe that would help us get our minds off the fire and the loggers, she didn't bother to add.

"Maybe I should phone some of Dooley's Artistic license friends in town," Doc Simple agreed.

****

West of Goth Mountain, Johnny Goth was moving swiftly through a wasteland of rotting tree stumps. Johnny could hear more logging equipment headed towards Goth Mountain, moving along the road in the center of the valley, suggesting that Fenster still expected to log the Goth groves soon. How? Johnny Goth owned the land. No matter what happened, the trees should be safe for now. Hopefully.

The thought briefly crossed his mind that he was putting himself and Goth Mountain at risk by looking for Dooley and Ned, but he didn't see that he had any choice. With Two Bears out of action, he was the only person with any chance at all against Dark. Besides, if anything happened to him, his mother would inherit the land. He had made up a will weeks ago before moving west from Ohio.

He paused again to examine the tracks that he had been following. Wolf, but not wolf. The prints were far too large, sometimes rear feet only, and sometimes also front feet that weren't wolf feet and weren't human hands either, but some horrendous combination of the two. For Johnny there was no mistaking where Dark had been; even when Dark walked on rock or in water, a stench of death surrounded each footprint.

As he followed Dark's trail Johnny could hardly believe what he discovered. Dark had been on Goth property near the cabin. Dark must have been actually observing them, perhaps waiting for the right moment to strike. Why wait? And why was he so interested in them? And where was he now? The latest tracks headed West again, indicating that he was backtracking towards town. Why?

Based on their first meeting and on the tracks that he now followed, Johnny wasn't anxious to encounter Dark. The depth and the distance between prints suggested inhuman size, strength, and power. Though he carried both the watch and Two Bear's big hunting knife, Johnny didn't want to test even a magic blade against demon jaws and claws. He frequently paused to let his senses range freely, certain that if Dark approached him, he would know.

Johnny found where the two poachers had been murdered. Two police deputies were still there, keeping a dozen bystanders away from a scene bounded by yellow plastic tape. Johnny didn't need to get very close to gage the carnage; there were still obvious dark spatters of dried blood everywhere. Through his tracking skills Johnny knew that Dark had very recently returned to the scene. He found fresh giant wolf tracts that led to the scene. There the wolf tracks disappeared, and human looking shoe prints continued. Dark had apparently walked all about the area in human form, and had probably even brazenly talked to the cops before leaving and returning again to wolf form.

It suddenly occurred to Johnny that like the People, Dark could form what looked like clothing, though it was actually part of him. It was all a show, a disguise, whatever shape he took. Was it coincidence that he had the same shape-shifting ability as the People? Could it be more than coincidence? Could he be related to the People somehow? Again he clasped his father's gold watch and repeated his request for help from the People. He had powers, but to large extent he still lacked the knowledge of how to use them. He had no idea if his request was being heard.

Johnny continued to follow the trail cautiously. From the murder scene the wolf-like tracks took a sharp turn towards the edge of the valley. As Johnny moved towards the high cliffs that formed the valley wall he sensed that he was not alone.

****

Not ten minutes after the alarm was first raised two dozen tribesmen were at the fire, led by Black Knife, but it was already too late. The section of giant fallen log that housed Two Bears and his caregivers was totally engulfed in flame that burned so hot that approach by the rescue party was impossible. Black smoke poured into the sky, and there was a faint smell of gasoline in the singed air, mixed in with the usual wood smells. "They couldn't have escaped through that fire," Black Knife noted, "but they could still be alive inside," he noted. "The fire is still on the outside of the log."

True, but even as they watched, it obviously spread to the inside. Soon twenty-foot flames poured out the doorway from inside.

Shovels full of damp dirt and wet snow were being thrown onto the fire, and then buckets of water from the nearby stream, but with little effect. More Tribe members arrived by the dozen, men, women, and children, until four solid lines of them stretched from the creek to the fire, increasing greatly the amount of water being applied, but still with little apparent effect.

Any water thrown directly towards the heart of the fire evaporated before even reaching flame. Tiny and insignificant their efforts were, compared with the huge log and the roaring red monster of a fire that now consumed it. They directed some of the water on themselves and on surrounding brush and trees, rather than directly on the fire. That kept the fire from spreading and allowed continued access to the log, but the log burned as hot as ever. The water of their soaked clothes heated and streamed away again and again and was only of limited help in the searing heat.

Led by Black Knife, firefighting efforts continued and even increased, as more people continued to arrive from the Reservation. Most of the Tribe was eventually there, helping. But it became obvious to everyone present that nothing inside could possibly be still alive. As the log continued to blaze, more and more words of prayer and screams of despair could be heard among the tiring fire fighters.

"The hollow tree is destroyed," Black Hawk informed Small Bear by radio.

"What about survivors?"

Black Hawk had to take a deep breath before he could again speak. "Impossible."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as we can be, short of finding bodies. It will be hours before we can do that."

"How did the traitors do it?"

"Gasoline, it looks like. And I also suspect that they blocked the door somehow so that none could escape."

"But how did they get past you and the others?"

Black Hawk felt the bump on his head. He had failed the Tribe, that's how they did it. "I was only knocked unconscious. Red Fox was not so lucky. We found his body as we fought the fire."

"This is truly a dark day."

"Where are you, Small Bear?"

"Near the front gate. Tall Fox & Night Hawk have been sighted near here. There's a crowd of loggers and police gathering outside the gate, also. I have my hands full here."

"Fenster must not find out that all of the Goths are dead," implored Black Hawk. "If he does, he will move on the Goth land immediately. Should I send more men to join you at the outer gate?"

"No, Black Hawk. We have things covered here. Keep the fire from spreading and recover the bodies."

"Right." With a heavy heart, Black Knife went back to directing the firefight.

****

CHAPTER 15

ARTISTIC LICENSE

"Who the hell are you?" the old man asked. His ancient looking two barrel twelve-gage shotgun, held in shaky hands, was pointed more or less at Johnny Goth. Johnny was beginning to question the wisdom of openly approaching the two old men.

"You ain't nobody from Lathem, young fella," the old man continued. If'n you're that Dark fella you best tell us right now what you done with Dooley."

"I'm not Dark, I'm Johnny Goth. Dark has red eyes and sharp teeth. I'm looking for Dooley myself, to get him back from Dark."

"According to Sheriff Barns you and the Indians are in cahoots with Dark," said the second man.

"Then Barns is a liar," replied Johnny.

"You got that right," said the first man. Smiling, he lowered his shotgun and stepped forward to shake Johnny's hand firmly. "I'm Jake Morgan and that other old fart with me is Billy Wilson. You're the hero from the library, along with Dooley and Two Bears. So you're looking for Dooley too?"

"And a friend that was with him when he was taken. A little hairy man with a face like a goat."

"You mean Ned?" asked Jake, whose jaw had dropped in surprise. "Dark took Ned too?"

Johnny concealed his own surprise. "It looks that way."

"Damn!" exclaimed Billy. "Anyone that could take out the Larkin brothers, Dooley and Ned is one really nasty son-of-a-bitch."

"Which is why you men shouldn't be out here. For your own safety, you should go back to town." Johnny estimated they were each between sixty-five and seventy. He could picture these men sitting in rocking chairs watching grass grow or playing checkers, but he couldn't imagine them going head-to-head with Dark.

"No damn way," said Jake. "It's Dooley Simple we're talking about. If it were any of us in trouble, Dooley would be out here looking for us, come hell or high water."

"Listen Johnny, we ain't dumb," explained Billy, "and we're damn near scared shitless. But it's Dooley Simple that's in trouble! Dooley! That lad is the best of the best. Besides, no matter how nasty Dark is, he can't stop all of us."

"All of you? How many are you?"

"Ninety seven, at last count, doing this part of the operation," said Billy. He pointed at a small radio on his belt. "Half of us are fellow members of Artistic License from up and down the coast. We got in touch with the Artistic License President, Janet Logan, and she's setting up busses to bring more of us up here from all over. Then there are lots of others of us that are just friends of Dooley's from town. But there's seven of us we ain't heard from for a while. We're supposed to radio each other every half hour, and use cell phones for the far folks."

"Where were they? The ones that don't respond to your calls anymore?"

"Towards town just a bit, one group three miles West, and the other four miles West of here," said Jake. "Me and Billy are the furthest East from town. Nobody else figured Dark would get out this far this fast, not at first. By now we've convinced the others that they got that one dead wrong. There's forty more of us headed up this way right now. Half of us are going to focus within five miles of here, including all the way to your place, Goth. Most are going to keep an eye on Fenster's loggers. Janet's folk will be focusing on stopping the loggers too, when they all get here. Artistic License folks don't take kindly to cutting down old trees."

"What brought you to this particular place?"

"We saw the tire tracks," said Billy. He pointed towards the road. "Someone recently drove back here a ways. Pickup or SUV, we figure. We been around here for half an hour and ain't found anything else though. Truck tracks were probably a hunter or hiker. Too far from town to be horny teens."

"No, you were right," said Johnny. "Dark has been here more than once. I'm following his footprints now."

"No shit?" exclaimed Jake. "Foot prints? What foot prints?"

Johnny pointed out a few of the more obvious tracks. The tracks leading away from the road towards the edge of the valley were deep, as though Dark was carrying more than himself. Claws were apparent with some of them. "Dark is usually in werewolf form," he explained.

"Shit!" exclaimed Jake. "A shape-shifting, evil son of-a-bitch!"

"He can shift between man and werewolf forms at will. Since you insist on not leaving you can stay with me for a bit while I look for Dooley and Ned, but stay behind me and be as quiet as you can. And follow my directions."

The two oldsters looked at each other and shrugged. "OK kid, you're the boss," agreed Jake.

Johnny continued following Dark's trail towards the valley wall at a slower pace, again frequently pausing to open his senses to everything around him. As instructed, Jake and Billy walked quietly behind him, pausing and then continuing when hand-signaled by Johnny to do so. The terrain was rugged, becoming hillier as they went, and Johnny was impressed by Jake and Billy. Whenever he checked on them they were slightly winded, but clearly game for more. He concluded that they must do much more than play checkers in their spare time.

At last they reached the sheer hundred-meter high cliffs that defined the valley edge. Dark's tracks led to the cliffs and ended.

"You two might want to wait here," said Johnny, before he started climbing. Jake and Billy watched with slack-jawed amazement from the cliff bottom as Johnny scrambled up the rock-face with impossible ease and speed.

Thirty meters up he suddenly stopped. "Get back from the cliff," he warned the oldsters. He pulled a loose rock from the cliff-face and scrambled to one side to avoid the small rock-slide that resulted.

When the dust cleared, a small cave opening was revealed, into which Johnny disappeared. When he came out a short time later, he was carrying someone folded over his shoulders - a slim, tall someone.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" exclaimed Jake. "He got him! It's Dooley!"

More slowly than he had ascended, Johnny climbed down the cliff, with Dooley's limp arm and leg belted together and around his neck.

"My God, is he alive?" asked Billy, as Johnny at last gently lay Dooley on the blanket Billy had put on the ground. The gangly young man was dirty, bloody, bruised and unconscious, and his clothes were torn and soiled.

"Barely," answered Johnny. "If he comes to, try to give him a little water."

"Should I call for help?" asked Jake, radio in hand.

"No. Don't trust anyone. Besides, Dark might have one of your radios from your missing members. We'll take Dooley to my place and fix him up." With that, Johnny rapidly climbed up the cliff again.

By the time Johnny returned with Ned's limp little form, Dooley's eyes were open. "Knowed you'd come for us, Johnny," he mumbled weakly, "I knowed it. Is Ned OK?"

"He's hurt really bad, Dooley." Johnny placed a hand on the little guy's hairy forehead, which, unseen by the others, contained his father's watch. For several minutes he watched as Ned gained strength, until at last he was sure that he could be moved. "I will carry Dooley, if you two Artistic fellas can carry Ned. Can you drive us all to Goth Mountain?"

"Sure," said Jake. "Hey, did you know that Ned's got goat feet and horns?"

Johnny shrugged. "You guys got something against goat men?"

"Not a damn thing," said Billy, as he picked up Ned. "Explains a lot, it does."

In a few minutes they were all piling into Jake's large SUV, with Dooley and Ned lying in the back. The SUV was painted in dots, squares and triangles that were all the colors of the rainbow. Johnny wasn't surprised to see an Artistic License sign above the rear state plate. Despite the urgency of the situation Johnny stood outside the SUV for a full minute, looking around. He had a strong feeling that they were being watched, but he couldn't locate the source. Finally he climbed into the vehicle. He needed to get Ned and Dooley to the Mountain and to get everyone else to the relative safety of the cabin.

"What's bothering you Johnny?" asked a smiling Billy. "We have them both, alive! Wham, bam, licitly-split!"

"That's what bothers me," replied Johnny. "It was too easy."

"Oh hell yeah," said Billy. "Easy as walking up a cliff-side."

On the rim of the cliff above them, too far away for Johnny to sense him clearly, Dark smiled as he watched them leave. Then he jumped off the cliff, dropping nearly a hundred meters. He was in werewolf form by the time he hit the ground.

He examined Johnny's footprints and smiled even wider. His one all-consuming passion was in devouring life, and the traces of aura that Johnny had left with his footprints indicated a life force that had grown even stronger since their previous encounter. Something had charged up the young human with life-forces, something on Goth Mountain. He would have to find out what it was before he consumed Johnny Goth. Could it be the thing that he sought for many centuries? Increasingly, he felt that it had to be. The presence of the shape-shifter, a shaman, and a human with powers all added up to what he sought. Following the SUV, he loped wolf-like towards the Mountain.

****

Flames on the outside log surface were put out in half an hour, though thirty-foot flames still shot out the door, windows, and the top, which had now burned through.

As time stretched on the fire fighters became exhausted. The heat from the fire further reddened painfully their faces and arms. They coughed from the smoke and moved like automatons, hauling bucket after bucket after bucket until their hands were too tired and sore to hold them, their arms too limp to pass them, and their legs too weak to walk.

When the fire was mostly extinguished they saw that a rock weighing hundreds of pounds lay in the remains of the doorway. The door had been the only opening big enough to get out; with it blocked by the rock nobody inside could have possibly escaped the still raging fire.

The physical burden of the fire fighters was dwarfed by the emotional one, their hearts unbearably heavy in sorrow, over the loss of the Goths, Mary, and their beloved shaman Great Two Bears. This massive weight, more than simple physical exhaustion, is what drove many of them their knees.

Still, they each rose and continued fighting the fire after catching their breath, for there was nothing else to be done.

Less than two hours after the blaze started, the cabin section of the hollowed out log was reduced to a smoking black heap. All the flames were finally out, as much due to a lack of fuel as to the firefighting efforts. The entire section of log that housed the healing cabin was now a heap of ash.

****

"Damn," cursed Barns, as the patrol car slowed to a stop. On the road in front of them stood Dark. The first impulse of the sheriff was to run him down, the second to draw his revolver and shoot him, but Fenster wouldn't approve. Besides, he wasn't sure that such actions would do anything other than get himself killed. So he simply climbed out of the squad car and hoped that he wouldn't be butchered like the Larkin brothers.

"I have a message for you and your boss, Sheriff," announced Dark, as he approached Barns, smiling his unfriendly smile. "I heard that the Tribe Shaman and the Goths may have been killed. Let it be clear that Johnny Goth must be mine."

Barns swallowed. "I had nothing to do with it, but we heard from our inside people that Johnny has already been killed by fire," said Barns, his throat suddenly dry. He was remembering what Dark had done to his cousins, and had to fight to keep both fear and anger under control.

"Fortunately for you, that is not the case. I saw Goth near here, alive and well, not ten minutes ago."

"No kidding! And that's the way you want him? Alive? That's your message?"

"Unless you and your boss want to take his place?"

"Of course not. But you have got to cool it. All your killings have got people worked up. Hell, you've even killed kin of mine!"

Dark laughed. "I am Death. What did you expect?"

The squad car radio squealed, signaling a call, and causing Barns to glance at the squad car. When he looked for Dark again, he was gone. "Damn," he commented.

The call was from his men waiting outside the Goth property. A very much alive Johnny Goth had just returned to the Goth place in an SUV, along with two old men from town. "Damn," Barns repeated.

****

Johnny was puzzled by the reactions of the tribesmen who watched him climb out of the SUV and open the gate. He could both see and feel that they were very upset about something, but they were also unduly excited and astonished to see him. "Does Two Bears still recover?" he asked. "I have two more injured that need help at the Healing Place."

"That place is no more," they told him. "The hollow log burned to the ground and all in it have perished. You were said to have been killed in it also."

Numb with shock, Johnny climbed back into the SUV and let Jake drive them up the driveway to the cabin. Billy pulled a camera from under a seat and took pictures as they moved through the trees. They parked near the old log cabin next to a strange new car that looked totally out of place.

To Johnny's surprise Angela Welborne climbed out of it and looked at him disapprovingly. He had forgotten that she was at the cabin. "So you're alive, you son-of-a-bitch," she said angrily. "They said you were dead."

"No. Have you heard news about my mother and the others?"

"They said that all of you were dead." She said it without a shred of emotion.

"Johnny!" shouted Elizabeth, from the doorway, eyes red from crying. She ran to him and they held each other closely, not saying another word.

"I thought so," said Angela. "You better make up your mind who your fiancé is, and what kind of future you want, Johnny Goth."

Elizabeth pulled out of Johnny's embrace and looked up into his eyes. "They said you were killed."

"Unlikely," he replied, a smile forming on his face.

"Well, your Mother is dead," injected Angela, spitefully.

Johnny turned his head to look at Angela. Having her here made it even more apparent that it was Elizabeth he truly loved. How he could have ever agreed to marry Angela was totally incomprehensible to him.

"Also unlikely," said Johnny, smiling wider, his eyes returning to Elizabeth.

"Johnny," exclaimed Elizabeth, "do you know something?"

"I know that Mother is alive. I can faintly hear her calling to me right now," he explained to Elizabeth, speaking too softly for Angela to hear him. "But she's in bad trouble." He ran to the SUV. "I'll carry Dooley and you carry Ned," he told her, as he opened the back gate of the SUV and gathered Ned's small form and placed him in her arms. "Follow me, quickly," he instructed her, as he picked up Dooley and walked rapidly around the cabin and towards the forest. Elizabeth followed as quickly as she could, carrying the strange creature she had just been introduced to. Angela, puzzled, followed them, suddenly aware that Johnny may be totally lost to her, but still determined to get something out of her long investment in him.

"Dooley!" shouted Fred Simple joyously, as he ran from the cabin to catch up with Johnny.

Johnny paused briefly to show the professor that it was indeed an ailing but living Dooley that he carried. "I have to get him to help now, Professor."

"I'm coming with him," insisted the Professor, grasping one of Dooley's limp hands.

"That would be very difficult," started Johnny.

"I don't give a damn. You have no right to stop me, no damn right at all."

"I think you're right," agreed Johnny. "Very well, you can come with us too, Doc. But I'll go ahead with Dooley; it will get him to help faster, and get me to the fire. You should help Elizabeth with Ned. Ned is Dooley's close friend, and mine. Dooley would want it that way."

"You're all crazy," shouted Angela, as they walked further ahead of her. "Dead is dead. Johnny, stop this nonsense!"

Nobody paid any attention to her. After Johnny got everyone but Angela past the inner fence and its two guards, he continued ahead, carrying Dooley, at first running incredibly fast and then, to the astonishment of perhaps even himself, flying through the air several meters above the path, moving at much faster than even his running pace.

"Oh my gosh!" stuttered the Professor, in astonishment. "I think I am crazy."

Angela smiled to see Johnny showing his powers openly, then cursed for being excluded from it as he disappeared from her sight.

Elizabeth was beginning to expect the impossible from Johnny, and said nothing. She redoubled her efforts, breaking into a jogging pace that the Professor, though unburdened, had a hard time matching.

"I am crazy, I am crazy," repeated Professor Simple, whenever he had enough breath to do so, as Johnny and Dooley disappeared ahead, among trees of impossible size that bordered the forest path they followed.

Elizabeth still said nothing; her primary focus was on carrying little Ned quickly and smoothly. As she did so she also pondered whom it was that she was carrying. Ned? She had heard the name many times since she started teaching on the Reservation, but had never met the mysterious Ned, the infamous playmate of children and player of innocent pranks.

Until now. As she run carrying him, the blanket wrapped around him gradually loosened, exposing hairy face and body, horned head, and cloven feet. She recognized what he was now. Ned was undoubtedly a mythical creature, one of several types represented by the woodcarvings of the Goth cabin. She absorbed this latest this realization without even breaking stride. Whatever else he was, Ned was a close friend of the children she taught, and of Dooley and Johnny. That was more than enough to keep her running with him, tired and astonished as she was.

Angela was left cursing at the inner gate. Two armed guards wouldn't let her continue one step further but were nervously looking beyond her. Towards and beyond the cabin, growing sounds of heavy-duty logging equipment could be heard. Jake and Billy, who had been mute observers to the whole strange business, got busy on their radios and cell phones, redeploying all Artistic License forces towards the Goth place. This wasn't over yet, they figured. Not by a long shot.

****

CHAPTER 16

HIDEY HOLE

"Ieee!" shouted the first tribesman to see Johnny, carrying Dooley, flying past the Great Tree and towards them. Three hundred Tribe members pointed and muttered exclamations. They all gave him a wide berth when he landed among them, near the still smoldering log remains.

"White Wolf, is it truly you and not your spirit?" asked an astonished tribesman. Black Knife was so covered with soot and mud that Johnny would not have recognized him, had he not spoken. Blood was also mixed with the soot and mud, Johnny noticed. He laid Dooley gently on the ground and stood on slightly unsteady legs.

"I'm not yet a ghost, my friend, it is really me, a bit winded but otherwise healthy. I left here before the fire started, to find Dooley and Ned." He pointed down the path. "Send aid towards the cabin to help bring Ned, Elizabeth, and Dooley's father here. They are all coming here by my order and responsibility, of course."

"You are the Goth, Johnny." At a nod of Black Knife's head two braves ran back down the trail. Then his smile faded. "I'm sorry, Johnny. Someone got past us and started the Healing Place on fire. All we could do is keep it from spreading beyond the hollowed out area."

"And we lost a man," said Johnny. He nodded towards the woods to one side of the Great Tree, where several Tribe members had gathered. He couldn't see the body, but he could sense it, and he could sense the grief of those gathered around it.

"Yes. Red Fox; knifed dead by a traitor."

"Too late to try to save him," noted Johnny regretfully.

"We did all we could to try to save those in the hollowed out log, White Wolf," said an old man who was also covered with soot.

Johnny recognized Summer Buck, the former Chief. The ancient leader was shivering, even though after the fire the entire area still radiated heat, like pavement that had sat the day in an improbably hot summer Sun. "You did well, Elder Summer Buck. Rest now." He pulled off his own flannel shirt and wrapped it around the old man's shoulders, then led him aside to sit on a patch of soft moss, before turning to address all those gathered there: three hundred tired, despairing men, women and children.

"You all did very well," he reassured them, as they stared at him without comprehension. Why was he so unmoved by what had happened? Why was he smiling? "You limited the fire. Thanks to you they're still alive; I'm communicating with my Mother right now."

Tribe members murmured. "But they can't possibly be alive, Johnny," Summer Buck insisted, shaking his gray haired head and pointing to the black smoldering charcoal ruins.

"They're in a dark place. Somewhere beyond the fire within what remains of the log, too deep for me to sense them very well. They're weak though, and their air grows fouler. We've got to hurry. We have to get them out quickly."

"Can Ann describe where she is?" Black Knife asked.

"No, she grows weak and isn't very coherent," said Johnny. "She just keeps saying something about a 'hidey hole' over and over."

Summer Buck suddenly smacked his forehead with a blackened hand and stood up again on unsteady legs. "Powers, I'm an idiot! Hidey hole? Ann must mean the place I showed her many years ago!" Grabbing an ax from a startled brave, he hobbled to what remained of the log, followed by Johnny and others. Between the giant torn roots at the base of the log and the burned out cabin area he moved along the singed bark, thumping it with the flat side of the ax. At last he found a spot that made a hollow sound when he smacked it. "Cut here!" he exclaimed, as he drove the ax into the trunk.

Two husky tribesmen with chain-saws soon took over, as the out of breath old man sat and rested and explained what he had just remembered to Johnny and the others. "They built the Healing Place in this fallen tree when I was a child. But the log already had hollowed out cavities in it big enough to crawl into. The biggest was enlarged to make the Healing Place, but there were other cavities. One that remained was walled off from the cabin, but some of us kids put in a door that led into it from inside the cabin."

"I never knew that," said Johnny.

"Not many did. The door has hidden behind hanging furs and blankets, but Ann found it one day many years ago, when she was helping to clean the Healing Place. I told her its history and she laughed about it, calling it her hidey hole. I should have remembered sooner."

"No matter," said Black Knife. "We couldn't have gotten to it until the fire was put out anyway."

The encircling crowd parted, admitting Elizabeth, Professor Simple, and finally Ned, who was carried by one of the Tribe that had been sent to help.

Simple nodded at the gathering, than attended Dooley after little Ned was laid next to the lanky young man.

Elizabeth also bent over Dooley, concern etched on her face, but Johnny reassured her. "They both live strongly enough," he announced, "but the sooner we can rescue our healers for them the better." Johnny went back to watching the men working with the chainsaws, and aided their progress with his powers, such that they cut even faster into the thick log. One saw ran out of gasoline, but kept operating anyway, ripping through wood as Johnny concentrated on it with unblinking eyes. In minutes they broke through into the hollow of the log and Johnny crawled into the dark hole while Black Knife stayed behind at the entrance.

The next moments were very long ones.

"He's found them, and they all live," Black Knife soon announced, smiling, tears streaming from his eyes and down his soot covered cheeks. A great shout of joy went up from the weary rescuers.

Greeted by cheers, Mary White Dove crawled out of the hole first, half carried by Johnny. She looked exhausted and a little dirty, but otherwise alright. She looked at her filthy friends and made a funny face. "What happened to all of you?" she asked her rescuers, as she received their wet sooty hugs.

"You all need baths," seconded Ann Goth, as she was helped from the log, to a chorus of cheers.

She was followed by a huge man being carried by Johnny. It was Two Bears, pale and unconscious but still alive. Cheers went up from the Tribe and a hundred voices chanted the names of their shaman and their Goth while waving shovels and buckets in the air, as several strong men rushed to help carry the big man. Soon the shaman was lying in the soft forest moss near Dooley and Ned. He was still unconscious and looked weak but he was breathing unaided.

Mary and Simple sat with the injured, as Ann described what had happened. "We were both focused on healing Two Bears when it happened. For just a moment I thought that I smelled gasoline and then there was an explosion. The door was blocked by something heavy but with the fire raging outside it couldn't have been used anyway. We dragged Two Bears into the hidey hole and then we both focused on strengthening his heart until the fire burned through into the cabin. At that point we focused on staying away from the fire as much as possible and on trying to contact you, Johnny."

"What about smoke?" asked Johnny.

"We got lucky. Though too small to crawl through, the cavity twists all the way to the base of the trunk and outside. The fire sucked fresh air through it so strongly that smoke and heat didn't get to us while the fire raged. Only when the fire was actually extinguished did air-flow reverse direction and smoke threaten us."

A smiling Johnny Goth had Summer Buck, Black Knife, and his mother sit down with him and rest while they talked further. "Mary should stay here with Dooley," he proposed. "Ned and Two Bears have the greatest need of healing. Mother, you and I should take them further up the Mountain, where they may heal even faster. It is time too that I learned the Mountain's secrets. We remain at a disadvantage if I do not have the full Goth knowledge."

"Spoken with wisdom, young Goth," said Summer Buck. "And what of Miss Winters and Mr. Simple?"

"Elizabeth should return to the cabin and join Small Bear, and help delay Fenster's loggers," said Black Knife. I just radioed Small Bear with all the good news, and that is what he requested. Elizabeth has legal standing that will help him keep out the loggers he says."

"Very well," agreed Johnny, "but Simple should stay with his son."

"Yes, but that was not my point," replied Summer Buck. "Elizabeth and Mr. Simple are both outsiders."

"They must become members of the Tribe, if they will have us," said Johnny. "That was of course my intent when I brought them all here."

"Dooley has special powers and is already one of the Tribe, so in principle at least his father may become one of us," agreed Summer Buck. "But there is in principle only one way for Elizabeth Winters to join the Tribe. Did you know this?"

"Yes," said Johnny. "I intend to address that issue at my earliest opportunity."

"You have not asked her then?" his mother inquired.

"No, not at all."

"Then I think you should take fifteen minutes or so right now to ask her. Two Bears, Dooley and Ned will be alright with me and Mary watching them."

"You like her then, Mother?"

"Very much, especially when compared to her competition."

Johnny had to think a bit before he even realized whom she meant. "You mean Angela."

"Certainly Angela."

"I confess that I haven't thought much about Angela since I met Elizabeth."

"Are you sure about Elizabeth?"

"I am very sure, but I don't know what her reaction might be. We only just met."

"Then talk to her, Johnny," interjected Summer Buck. "Use your fifteen minutes with her, not with us old folk."

Elizabeth was sitting on the ground between Dooley and Ned, turning from one to the other, watching them intently. She was holding one of Dooley's hands, and his father was holding the other, when Johnny approached them.

"They're both sleeping but they are very weak," she looked up and told Johnny softly. "I wish I could help them the way you and the others can. I feel so helpless!"

"You are helping them greatly, just by being with them and with us."

"Ned doesn't always look this way, does he Johnny?"

"Beat up?"

"You know what I mean: hooves and horns!"

"I'd like to be able to tell you more."

"But you can't? Why did you bring me here to the Tribe's Holy Forest Johnny? You could have easily had someone else carry Ned here. Then you and your secrets would be safe from me."

He smiled. "Maybe I don't want to be safe from you. Could we walk alone to the Great Tree?"

She smiled as she took his hand. "We can walk there, but I doubt that we'll be alone," she noted.

She was right, Johnny realized. Though some fire fighters had started to hike back towards the village, half the tribe remained, resting or putting out the last of the smoldering coals. Dozens were gathered about the Great Tree, basking in its life force. "We'll do the best we can."

About that time Elizabeth had another startling realization. "No bugs!" she exclaimed. "Where have all the flies and gnats and ticks and mosquitoes gone? Did the fire spook them?"

"No, I took care of that, at least for the surrounding area."

"You took care of that? You can control bugs?"

"It's no big deal. I learned to do it when I was a kid. I started doing it again subconsciously when I returned here. It took me a while to even notice I was doing it."

"No big deal? It's a very big deal, Johnny. It's mind-boggling. What else can you do that I don't know about? Can you read my mind?"

"I can't avoid sensing emotions to some degree, but I try to avoid reading distinct thoughts unless they are broadcast intentionally. I've conditioned myself to not even try to read minds, as that would be unethical. If you were to live close to the Mountain for several months you might eventually be able to communicate telepathically yourself, but you'd find that it would be a lot like talking. Your thoughts would need to be consciously projected in order to be detected and understood by others."

"Spooky. There are so many questions I don't know when to start. If this is such a holy place for the Tribe, how come you Goths own it? Why wasn't it made part of the Reservation?"

"The Government at the time required that all Reservation land be surveyed in detail. The Tribe couldn't let that happen with this place; they knew it would be taken away from them if the white men knew its true value. My great-granddad was an Indian-friendly naturalist who wanted to save trees. The Holy Forest and its Great Tree are priceless. The Goths agreed to help the Tribe protect the Forest and all the secrets of the Mountain."

"Just how big is the Great Tree?"

"My Dad said that it's about fifty meters in circumference at eye level, and over two-hundred meters tall. Nobody knows how old it is, but the fallen trunk that just burned was at least five thousand years old."

"Fascinating!"

"Yes, but we have to talk about other things right now. For instance I'm not going back to Los Angeles, ever. I belong here. I have responsibilities here. I want and need to be here."

"So I gather. What about Angela?"

"Angela was the biggest mistake of my life. I will still have to tell her that outright, I owe her that much, but I think she already knows it. I don't ever want to make another mistake of that magnitude. I can't go back to what my life was before returning here.

"I want you to understand how total my commitment is. I am committed to this place and this situation, as were my parents, as were my grandparents and as were my great-grandparents on my Dad's side. My children will need the same commitment, or at least one of them will."

"Why, Johnny? What is so damned important about Goth Mountain? What is the source of all of this?"

"I couldn't tell you, even if I knew, not yet."

"Why?"

"Because you're not a Goth. You already have seen too much and know too much. It's my fault, really. Ever since we met, maybe I haven't been thinking straight. I've been very careless in assuming things I have no right to assume. We Goths have an agreement with the Tribe to keep the secrets of Goth Mountain, secrets that we've shared with them for almost two centuries. It's a sacred trust."

They had reached the Great Tree and the point of their discussion. "Johnny, what is it that you want of me, just tell me."

Johnny looked around. At least a dozen curious Tribe members were watching them and listening. Not overtly intruding perhaps, but he was still uneasy about it. There was one nearby place however, where they wouldn't be able to follow. "I want us to talk in private. So first, would you go with me to the top of the Tree? It's a favorite place of mine that I haven't been to in years."

Elizabeth looked at the Tree. Though the thick rough black bark featured half-foot deep reddish crevices that would provide excellent hand and foot holds, it was at least fifty meters up to the first branches. It could take hours for an expert to climb it, she figured. "How?"

"I'll fly us up, of course."

"Can you lift both of us up that far, Johnny?"

"Sure. A person can run faster and think clearer here. And fly better also, in my case. Come on, I'll show you."

He swept her up in his strong arms, and she held him around the neck. They promptly lifted off the ground, floating far above the amused smiling faces of those of the Tribe still watching them. In less than a minute they were sitting side by side in the upper branches, with the very tip-top of the tree only ten meters above them.

The sight left Elizabeth speechless. They were sitting a full twenty meters above the tops of the surrounding great trees, and she could see for many miles down the valley: tree tops for the first few miles, and stumps in the distant cleared wasteland beyond the forest. In the other direction Goth Mountain rose, an ancient, black, weathered volcanic cone, its peak shrouded in ice, mists and primal mystery.

The Great Tree itself was the greatest wonder. The towering tree swayed in the gentle breeze, slowly rocking back and forth like some enormous ship shifting on invisible tides. Evidence that the Tree was very much alive and growing still larger was everywhere, in the form of soft new light green needles shooting out from the tips of most branches. It was already so huge that it seemed to be a world unto itself; it seemed to her that perhaps the Earth, and not the tree, was swaying in the breeze.

When she turned her attention to Johnny, he was watching her, his expression troubled. "Events have merely accelerated this issue Elizabeth. I think I knew what I wanted almost since the first moment that I met you. I want you to stay with me here on Goth Mountain forever Elizabeth, as my wife. I'm absolutely crazy in love with you."

After her heart started beating again, racing actually, she opened her mouth to speak, but Johnny wasn't done yet. "Please don't say anything yet Elizabeth, until I've explained more. You'll have to stay on the Mountain mostly; that's one of the rules. We can travel to town of course, and you can visit your aunt or other places temporarily, and any Goth kids can go off to school, but mainly you'll have to stay here or be visiting the Reservation, that's one of the rules."

"Shut up Johnny Goth," she said, as she pulled his lips to hers. Any doubts she might have had were melted away by that kiss and the feeling of his strong arms around her and the press of his body against hers. Maybe she still didn't know everything about Johnny Goth and his mountain, but she knew everything that she had to.

Finally he broke free. "Was that a yes kiss or a goodbye kiss? I'm still confused."

"Why? Can't read my thoughts? That was definitely a 'yes' kiss, dummy." She never felt this way before, so much attracted to a man, and so hungry for more; it was all like some sort of fairy tale.

"Oh, and you have to be made a member of the Tribe too, of course."

"I do? Holy shits!"

"It's one of the rules. I'd explain more, but I'm not allowed to, until after the ceremony."

"One of the rules?"

"Yep."

"There seem to be a lot of rules. I'll try to come more than half way on all this business about secrets of the Mountain and rules to follow and so forth, but I warn you that I'll have some of my own ideas too."

Johnny smiled. "I wouldn't want to marry you if you didn't."

They kissed again.

Summer Buck and Black Knife stood under the tree, looking straight up. Ann Goth stood with them, smiling. That could only mean one thing, others knew. Everyone that remained in the area sensed what was happening, and gathered around the tree.

"She's a very good person, Ann," commented Summer Buck. "Two Bears always spoke highly of her, and so do her students. She reminds me of you."

"I hope you mean that in a good way," replied Ann.

"I do. Two Bears always said that you and Johnny would return. I admit that I wasn't so certain."

"I couldn't stay here after losing Mark."

"I know. But I hope you'll stay now. We all do."

"I'm keeping an open mind about it."

A huge smile formed on his old face. "That's very good news, White Hope, and the Tribe can use some good news."

Suddenly there was shouting and laughter as people looked up and saw Johnny Goth and Elizabeth floating down through the Great Tree like a pair of falling leaves, skillfully dodging branches while holding each other very close. "White Wolf, White Wolf, White Wolf!" they chanted, as they jubilantly ringed the smiling couple. Only with difficulty was it possible for Summer Buck and Black Knife to quiet the crowd.

"She said yes?" Ann asked her son.

"I did," admitted Elizabeth, glancing at all the smiling faces. "Are you all mind readers?"

"Mostly just astute observers," explained Ann. "Welcome to the family," she added, as she hugged Elizabeth. "But I hope that you two are certain about this. It all happened super-fast."

"We seem to be living in accelerated times, Mother," said Johnny.

"Have you thought of a name for her, Johnny?" asked Ann.

"Goth would be my name, right?" Elizabeth asked, puzzled.

"I mean your Tribe name," explained Ann. "It's tradition for the Goth to pick the Tribe name for his spouse."

"OK, I didn't know that part," admitted Johnny, "but how about ..."

"Wait, Johnny," admonished Summer Buck. "You shouldn't tell anyone the name until the ceremony."

"Including Elizabeth?"

"Especially Elizabeth," said Ann, grinning.

Elizabeth laughed. "That's sort of romantic!"

"That's the idea," said Ann. "Any idea about when? It should be very soon."

"As soon as we're in the clear with some of the things that are happening," said Johnny. "And I'm afraid we have to get back to that right away. Elizabeth, you'll need to go back to the cabin as a renter for now."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. "You're going to visit your mysterious Mountain now, aren't you?"

"Are you a mind reader?" teased Johnny.

"Just an astute observer," she replied. Then amid hoots and giggles from the smiling crowd, she wrapped her arms around Johnny's neck and kissed him. "Hurry back," she told him.

"All of you hurry back," she added, as Johnny joined his mother, who was already picking up Ned. Ann did it with ease; she was far stronger than she looked.

So was Johnny Goth. There were gasps among the crowd as Johnny again easily picked up Great Two Bears, who weighed over four hundred pounds. Together, he and his mother walked towards the remnants of the still smoking fire and around it, to the path beyond that led further up Goth Mountain.

****

CHAPTER 17

THE LIFE SOURCE

The first section of path they followed was overgrown with delicate deer ferns, suggesting that the path was almost never used. The valley narrowed abruptly, and the path followed the valley stream still more closely. There was simply not enough room or soil here for giant trees, but a profusion of ferns, moss, vines and small trees clung with tenacity to rocky ledges and crevices. Johnny recognized rhododendron, vine maples, huckleberry, and Oregon grape vines, all displaying colorful spring finery, mostly in the form of delicate white or yellow blossoms around which flying insects swarmed. He could have repelled them but he purposely let them go about their business.

Johnny and Ann were careful where they placed their feet, lest they prick themselves on devil's club spines as sharp as porcupine quills, or crush big slithering banana slugs or other creatures. Alongside the path the stream tumbled through a rock-faced gorge: clear, frolicking, joyous. In it they glimpsed dark, torpedo shaped fish darting swiftly.

The path that had all but disappeared in the spring foliage again became more evident in the form of widened ledges and stair-like footholds painstakingly carved in solid volcanic basalt; its normally rough pitted surface worn smooth by feet and time. Dozens of ancient wooden totem poles placed every few meters attested to the origins of the path, which must have been made by Two Bear's ancestors over many hundreds of years. The totems may have been carved, or they may have been grown that way, it was impossible to tell which.

As they walked further they passed through a smorgasbord of geological formations; massive white granite blocks formed deep within the earth, pushed up by shattered volcanic flows of glinting black obsidian, piles of ash and rock fragments thrown by titanic volcanic explosions, and half-inch thick sheets of brittle, crumbling, jagged gray shale that had been broken to bits by volcanic cataclysm.

Despite abundant evidence of eons of punctuated geological violence on a gigantic scale, life encroached on the rock structures everywhere; moss, grass, ferns, lilies and bushes, along with insects, snails, birds, and rodents that scampered or slithered amongst them. Over the centuries life and the weather were relentlessly converting even the most stubborn rock into dark patches of soil which teemed with life.

In the wonderful stillness of this primal wilderness it was a long time before Ann spoke. "The Tribe found the object several thousand years ago, after already treating the grove of trees as a holy place for several generations."

"Object?"

"What we sometimes call the Source. The whatever-it-is that is apparently responsible for invigorating life around here. The Tribe doesn't exactly worship it, but they do respect it and fear it."

"People blindly fear what they don't understand."

"No, it's not just blind fear, if what the Tribe and we Goths have learned is true."

"What has been learned?"

"That we should keep our distance from it. At moderate distances up to several miles it invigorates life. Plants and animals grow faster, bigger and without disease, and live longer than normal. IQs jump by dozens of points. Psychic powers are awakened or strengthened. But there's a flip side, a dark side. Great-granddaddy Goth got too close, and got a sour taste of it." She stopped walking and lay Ned gently on a patch of mossy ground. "Let's stop a minute to rest, talk, and check on our patients."

Ann pointed further up the path, to where a sizable tree grew, an Aspen with a trunk that was two meters in diameter. "That's not a normal tree, Johnny."

"I agree," said Johnny. "It looks normal, though perhaps over-sized for an Aspen and a little misplaced. But I can sense that it is much more than a mere a tree. It radiates life very strongly. Off-scale, actually."

"It's an outgrowth of what the People call the One Tree."

"Perhaps an apt name," added Johnny. "Aspens spread by their root systems. The result can be one organism that covers many square miles of area and masses greater than the Great Tree. I sense that this is but a small portion of a very large tree indeed. This is the Source?"

"No. The Source is just over the next rise. The One Tree provides a pathway between the Land of the People and the Source. The People have always been interested in the Source, for much longer than even the Tribe has lived here. A part of the One Tree has been here for countless ages, basking in the Source's power. Several thousand years ago the People arranged for the Tribe to help them watch over the Holy Forest and the Source, much as the Tribe later made a similar agreement with the Goths."

Johnny nodded. "The advantages to the Tribe are obvious: better health, strength, and plenty of myths and mystery to help keep their interest at a peak. You said the One Tree is some sort of pathway?"

"That's how the People refer to it. Its roots form a link to their hidden refuge, which is an unknown distance away: what seems like only miles, but is actually much further. The Land of the People resides in a different but nearby other dimension, according to your father."

"So Ned and others of the People can go to and from the Land from here? How?"

"By following the root system through the mountain, but only with the help of a unicorn."

"You mean Pru?"

Ann smiled. "So you also remember her! Yes, that unicorn is very special." She knelt next to Ned and placed her hand on his forehead below the horns. "Ned will be coming around soon. He doesn't need any more help from us."

She also checked on Two Bears. "He is well enough now to wake, but chooses to focus on healing himself more fully. We call it a healing trance. So close to the Source, he should be completely recovered within minutes."

She stood. "In the meantime, I'll acquaint you with the Source itself." The two of them continued alone up the path for only a few dozen meters, until Ann signaled Johnny to stop.

Johnny looked at what was ahead, but didn't at first see anything seriously out of sorts, except that the path ended there where the ledge widened into a small clearing. The stream also began nearby, as a torrent that erupted from an underground cave system that was probably volcanic in origin.

On closer examination part of the little clearing looked odd. The path didn't simply widen into a clearing. There was a five-meter wide stretch where the cliff fell back like a cave, even though it didn't seem dark like a cave. The more he stared at it, the stranger it seemed; he couldn't make out what he was looking at. Strangest still, with his powerful psychic powers he sensed with a void in the middle of the clearing, an absence of life, even though with his eyes he was seeing small trees and ferns.

"Move yourself a little to the left and right," advised Ann. "You'll identify it presently."

"Is it a cave or ravine?" he asked.

"No, it's kind of a big box that looks like it's made of mirrors, though it isn't mirrors either," she answered. "Your dad called it the Cube."

With that hint, he could distinguish something more at last. The reason it was so hard to make out was that it did seem to be made of mirrors facing out from a partly exposed cube, such that he was seeing the reflections of the stream, small trees, and the glass-like, glittering black obsidian that surrounded most of the object. But as he looked closer, it seemed to stretch back into the cliff face as if it were a cave, but that wasn't right either, because there aren't trees and sunlight inside of caves.

Abruptly his perception came into full focus. What showed of the object was indeed a huge cube shape, with all the sides that he could see being equal squares, perhaps six-meters long to a side. Most of it seemed to be protruding out of the solid rock of the Mountain. The clearing was really less than half as large as it first seemed, the rest was but an imperfect reflection on the side of the Cube facing them. Altogether, it was peculiar as hell.

But it wasn't scary. In fact, if not for his mother's firm grip on his shoulder, Johnny would have worked his way much closer to get a better look. He started to ask her if they could go closer, but she shushed him to be quiet and pulled him back down the path, away from the thing in the cliff. She remained quiet until they were well out of earshot from the thing, and then she started telling him about it.

"It isn't reflections you were seeing in it," she began.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"If you stood in front of it, you wouldn't see your reflection."

"I don't understand."

"It's perhaps an opening into another world, and it's dangerous. Your Great-granddaddy swore that if someone gets too close the Source sometimes changes things."

"What does it change?"

"Nearly everything, he claimed. Your family can become different people, and things you thought happened didn't happen, and people say things happened that you don't remember happened. Have you ever heard of doppelgangers? Two Bears says that your doppelganger can appear in the Source and that such a thing is a very dangerous situation. So the Tribe and the first Goths agreed with the People that the Cube should stay hidden, and reasoned that the trees and the Tribe were God's way of hiding it. The first Goths felt it to be actually evil, even though even with their Goth powers they didn't sense it to be evil."

"What does the Tribe say?"

"A similar thing. It's taboo for them to get close to the Source, though the true reasons have perhaps been lost in time. Only the Shaman is allowed to even look at it. Tribe members are told that in order to keep a balance between good and evil in the world, The Great Father provided both invigoration of life in the area and the Source itself, which can do evil.

"But their main concern since white men came to the area is to preserve the Holy Forest and the secrets of the People and the Cube. They've seen white men ravage practically everything they can get their hands on. Also they're interested in fulfilling their obligation to the People. The People also want the Holy Forest, their One Tree and Land, and the Cube to remain hidden from the civilization of the white man."

"What do the People say about the Cube?"

"That it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Your dad thought it was connected to them in some way, but they don't seem to know much more about it than we do."

"What about you, Mother? What do you think that thing is?"

"You have read more science fiction than I have, Johnny. I think that the Cube was left here long ago by visiting aliens, perhaps long before humans walked the Earth. The Cube itself can't be sampled and dated, but your father used scientific methods to date the surrounding volcanic obsidian to be over ten thousand years old. The surrounding rock is flush with the Cube surface without any signs of disturbance. So it doesn't look like a hole was dug that the Cube was put in. It looks more like the rock formed around it, sometime after the Cube was put here. Or perhaps it floated here in the rock when the rock was molten. Maybe the volcano brought the Cube up from deep within the Earth. In any case it's pretty certain that the Cube is at least ten thousand years old."

"Location is a very relative concept," added Johnny. "Even these mountains are 'moving' along with the tectonic plates that form the Earth's crust. This thing may be stationary relative to the mountain, but then again that may only seem to be the case because we are viewing it for a very short time from a geological perspective. But why is it here? To stimulate life here on Earth? Who or what put it here?"

"We don't know."

"And what about this 'change' business? Is this thing really dangerous?"

"Yes."

"But Dad examined this thing close enough to identify and date the surrounding rock formations. Did he notice anything strange?"

Ann sat down and stared, silent and brooding, towards the Cube. "Your father used to get close enough to touch it, all right. He said that it feels hard and solid as a mountain and perfectly smooth, just like it looks." She sighed. "Your Dad was a new generation Goth. He was going to use modern science to study the Cube, and unlock its secrets. And then perhaps for us and the Tribe, he could even break the curse."

"Curse?"

"Yes, that is what he called it. At the expense of our freedom humans have for generations pledged themselves to guard this forest grove and the secret of the Cube. You yourself are part of that now, for better or for worse. Not that he'd ever unilaterally break with those traditions; but your Father realized that times do change."

"He was probably right. Mother; this thing can't possibly stay hidden forever. Probably within our lifetimes, outside pressures will go critical. One way or another our secrets will get out, due to satellite surveys or increased Tribe interactions with the outside world or whatever. The Tribe, People, and Goths need to consider if there are other options."

"Are there? Your Father didn't find any. What do you think would happen if we went public?"

"Given the ecology movement in recent years, I think the biggest trees would stand an excellent chance of survival."

"Yes, there's a very good chance of that much I think, if Fenster doesn't cut everything down first. But then what if the ecology movement falters in only a few decades or centuries, under increasing population pressure for instance? And what about terrorists and other nut-cases?"

Johnny shrugged. "What if the Goths and the Reservation falter in a few more generations? Isn't that just as likely?"

"Possibly. But what about the Cube itself? What would people do about it right now? What would our Federal Government do?"

"Fudge," cursed Johnny under his breath. "Right now the USA Government would grab it probably, and keep it as their own secret in the name of national security. They might even destroy the forest to keep the great trees from bringing more scientists to the Mountain. Word would leak out about it though. Other nations would worry about our country having it, and that could destabilize our relationships with those countries. Militaries could be re-formed and used. Things could rapidly get very, very bad."

"I agree. Maybe humanity will never be ready for the Cube, I don't know. But I don't think we're ready now. That's what Goths, the Tribe, and the People have all agreed on for many generations."

"But is it fair to keep all of this to ourselves Mother? I know a lot of good people that would love to see these trees, and would love to help us figure out the Cube. Then there are our healing abilities to consider. Millions of people die of stuff that could perhaps be cured."

"Only a few people seem to have healing powers that can be amplified by the Cube, so the effect would be limited. More people could easily be killed fighting over who owns or uses the Cube, than could be helped. Imagine our current problems with Fenster, but magnified a thousand-fold. And Dark isn't the only evil in this world, Johnny. Imagine a dozen Mr. Dark type demons trying to get at the Cube and use it for their own purposes."

"Fudge!"

"Exactly. Complicated issue, isn't it? Now you begin to understand what I meant by it being a curse and why I wanted to keep you away from the whole thing all those years."

"But that's not the main reason you have kept us away from the Mountain, is it?"

"No. Your dad was obsessed with studying the Cube. I was just as determined to keep him away from it. I made him spend most of his time in Ohio, but his heart was always here. Despite the risks, he insisted on pushing for more understanding. Then one day he came up here on the Mountain to study the Cube and never returned."

Johnny had heard the story many times. Was there more to it? "He simply disappeared?"

"Into the Cube, presumably."

"But maybe he isn't dead then! Maybe he's just lost!"

"I came up here myself with Two Bears and Mort to look for him, but there was no sign of him anywhere. After a few days of desperate, useless searching I realized that I had to get you away from the Mountain."

"Me?"

"Johnny, you're too much like your father, I knew that you would put yourself in danger too."

"You were right, I suppose. After all, here I am."

"I was wrong. It was inevitable that you would return to Goth Mountain. If we had lived here, you would now be much better prepared for all the dangers that you now face."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, we are where we are now. Get over your guilt, Mom."

"Well said," injected a familiar voice. Ann and Johnny turned to face its source, a giant of a man. Beside him stood a short, hairy, goat faced little creature.

"Two Bears! Ned! You've recovered!" shouted Johnny, as he and his mother ran to greet them.

When at last they stopped hugging, Two Bears eyed both Goths soberly. "There is something I must tell you," he announced. "Something very bad. But first something else perhaps just as bad needs to be told to both of you by Ned."

Johnny took Two Bear's knife from his belt and returned it to the big shaman. "So tell us. I doubt that anything that you two could possibly tell us could wipe the smiles off of our faces."

****

CHAPTER 18

BETRAYED

"Just remember to be an angry tenant, Elizabeth," said Small Bear. "I'll do most of the talking."

They were approaching the end of the driveway. Barns, Skunk, a dozen cops and a dozen motorcycle gang type toughs waited for them at the gate. Small Bear was right, thought Elizabeth, something was up. Two of Small Bear's deputies had joined them, but none of the other Tribe members were in sight. The others must be hidden very nearby, Elizabeth reasoned, but that didn't make sense to her. The tribe should be showing strength openly to keep the Fenster forces from doing anything stupid.

"I have legal papers to serve," announced Barns, as they approached. He was holding a quarter-inch thick stack of legal-sized papers. "As an established resident, Ms Winters, we'll make due with you as the recipient."

"I don't think I can substitute for Johnny," began Elizabeth.

"Legally, you'll do just fine in this case," said Barns. "But first they'll have to be signed by the Tribe." He held the papers out to Small Bear, who took them without comment. "Pages three and twelve, original and two copies."

Small Bear nodded, flipped through the pages, then pulled out a pen and started writing on the documents.

"What are you doing?" asked Elizabeth, alarmed.

"It's all very simple Ms. Winters," said Barns. "Acting Chief Small Bear is signing over all logging rights to Goth land. You're here only as a witness, and the Goths aren't even involved."

"What?" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Afraid so," agreed Small Bear, grinning as he continued to sign the papers. "It's all legal. A couple of years back Chief George got worried about the Goth line giving out, and got old Mort to sign over the logging rights to the Tribe. You and Johnny abandoning the Mountain pushed them into doing it. Legally at the moment, due to the deaths of the chief and shaman, the Tribe is me."

"Traitor, assassin! Stop him!" Elizabeth shouted as she slapped Small Bear across the face and tried unsuccessfully to grab the papers from him. "Two Bears lives, you traitor!"

"Actually I have officially reported him dead," retorted Small Bear.

Elizabeth hoped that the two tribal deputies that accompanied them would step in and stop Small Bear. Instead, they grabbed her arms, immobilizing her. She looked at the deputies more closely. They were vaguely familiar, but she couldn't recall their names. Both were big, mean looking young men.

"Elizabeth, meet my two oldest friends, Tall Fox and Night Hawk," explained Small Bear. "Without their work in the Chief's office I'd have never come up with this plan. Fenster didn't even know about it; he thought that doing away with the Goths was all that was necessary, and Mort made that part easy. But when I saw that logging rights had been assigned to the Tribe I knew that in addition to removing Mort, both the Chief and the Shaman had to be replaced by me."

He handed a copy of the signed papers back to Barns, who immediately placed them under Elizabeth's pinned right arm. Barns scribbled her name in several places using his own hand, but if necessary the other people present would testify that she did it.

"Delivered and duly witnessed," said Small Bear. He glanced nervously towards the surrounding woods. "I had them move further back, but the few tribal men watching us from the forest that are getting very confused and trigger happy right about now. Sheriff Barns, we're off the Reservation and in your jurisdiction. Arrest this woman for assaulting me just now and let's be on our way pronto."

"Gladly, Small Bear," agreed Barns. At a nod of his head two burly Deputy Sheriffs took possession of Elizabeth and the papers. They dragged her kicking and screaming to a squad car, where they quickly handcuffed her and put her in, none too gently. Both deputies sat in back with her, while Barns drove and Small Bear sat beside him.

The squad car and the rest of the entourage drove away rapidly, escaping the onrush of several shocked tribesmen that quickly converged on the gate.

Soon they were out of sight and parking alongside a county rescue squad vehicle. Elizabeth kicked and screamed as two medics approached her door. It was the same medics that had previously wanted to examine Two Bears, she realized: Fenster's men. Despite her struggles they gave her some sort of shot in the arm that immediately made her dizzy. As everything faded from view she saw Small Bear and Barns looking down at her, grinning evilly.

****

CHAPTER 19

MORE SECRETS

"Baaaaah", bleated Ned, mournfully, after telling Johnny and Ann his secret.

Ann sat down on the ground beside Johnny, pale and trembling. Johnny wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders.

"Fourteen years ago you found my father's body and never told anyone?" Johnny asked, shocked and astounded.

"Looks that way," said Two Bears. "At least he didn't tell anyone in the Tribe. Tell them where you took it."

To upset to speak, Ned pointed to the nearby One Tree, and again bleated pitifully. Tears ran down his hairy cheeks.

"He took Mark's body to the Land of the People," translated Two Bears. "That is as much as he told me minutes ago when we awoke. The rest he will have to tell you himself."

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," Ned babbled.

"Ned, we know that whatever you did was only what you thought was right," consoled Ann.

The little Goat man took a deep breath to compose himself. "I didn't know what else to do when I found him, Cub. I called Pru. She came right away. I talked her into taking Mark's body to the Land and keeping it a secret."

"But why?" asked Johnny.

"Baaaaaaaaaaa," bleated Ned, once again too upset to speak.

"I think I know," said Two Bears. "Mark's body was in very poor shape, wasn't it? Like Mort's?"

Ned nodded slowly.

"And you didn't want Johnny and Ann to see him that way, did you?"

Ned nodded again, more vigorously. "I moved Mort's body, too, when I found it at the same place, near the One Tree. But I thought that Mort would like to be brought home and found by the Tribe, so I put him in his bed at the cabin."

Johnny went to the little goat man, and hugged him warmly. "Maybe those were mistakes, and maybe not, but you're still the best friend anyone could ever have. Regardless, I for one still don't think that Dad is dead." He pulled out his father's old watch and showed it to his mother. Mark Goth's face was still on the back of the old time peace, beside his own.

"I agree," said Two Bears. "In the past, only when a Goth has died has their image disappeared. There is still hope for both your father and perhaps for Mort, though how they could both be alive and dead is the deeper mystery here."

"It must have to do with doppelgangers," Ann noted. "I've known that from the beginning. Finding a body that looks like Mark is a piece of the puzzle, but not the end of all hope. I won't let it be."

"Good," said Two Bears. "But there's something else that I have to tell everyone immediately, something terrible that pains me to even think of. It was my nephew Small Bear that shot me. Small Bear is the traitor."

****

CHAPTER 20

FALLEN

Elizabeth woke up slumped in the back of a patrol car. It was getting dark, but not so dark that she didn't recognize who sat next to her. Her skin crawled, for it was Small Bear. In the front seat Barns was driving, and monstrous Skunk sat beside him.

Her hands were handcuffed behind her and she was held firmly in place by a seat belt. She pretended to be still unconscious, but she couldn't fool Small Bear.

"I want to thank you for coming with me to the gate, Elizabeth," began Small Bear. "You have been a problem, all in all, despite being a distraction which helped keep Johnny off the scent. You would have remained a continued inconvenience, maybe cause delays that would provide time enough for Johnny and the Tribe to do something to stop us. So thanks for coming."

"Why, Small Bear?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why betray your kin and friends? Why kill your Uncle and your Chief?"

"Why not?" he replied, without a hint of emotion.

"They both gave you chances. Two Bears stood up for you. He loved you. He is a great man."

A mask of hate slid over his usually placid and impassive face. "Right, the Great Two Bears! Many years ago he let both my parents die, after an accident that badly injured them. His own brother! He said they were far too badly hurt and that he couldn't heal them, but I never believed it. My father was a great man, a hunter and Council member. He had the love of my mother, who Two Bears wanted for himself. He took me in after they died, but that was only what was expected of him. Then as I grew up, he forgave me all evil that I did, the idiot!

"But only to a point. I was of his own blood; he should have made me Apprentice Shaman, but he had no plans to do so, though I was smarter than any of them, and I kissed up to him and the Council for years. The best they could do for me was make me Tribe Police Chief? Dog catcher is a more important job on the Reservation. There is virtually no crime, aside from a little drug and alcohol use that I have been able to induce. My importance to the Tribe is a lie."

"You helped to guard Goth Mountain and the Tribe. That's important."

"Is it important to guard secrets that the Tribe is too stupid to ever make use of, except to let the all-mighty Goths and the Shaman have the real powers, while the rest of us got only crumbs? I had to hustle drugs on the side, just to make ends meet, which is how I met my blood brother Skunk. There is no Tribe-wide drug problem, as only my own men would even use drugs, but my little drug business got me contact with the Fensters."

"You have some powers yourself, don't you? You used them to fool everyone and get at Two Bears and Ann."

"Of course. Even though Two Bears didn't show me what I deserved to know, on my own I learned how to do some very valuable things, including how to lie well enough to fool even Two Bears, Chief George, and the Council. I can also make myself almost invisible to even Two Bears. I'm also very talented at setting fires. But that's not enough. I could have been as strong as a Shaman or a Goth, if I only had the chance. After the Goth land is taken, I'll get my chance at last. I'll have their powers for myself."

"Enough idle chit-chat," said Barns, who tired quickly of hearing about Indian nonsense. "We have to figure out exactly what to do with you, then we'll get at those big trees first thing in the morning."

"Trees!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Is that all that you told them about, Small Bear? Don't they even know what this is really about?"

With a flash of anger Small Bear slapped her face, hard. "Enough talk, white bitch!"

"Don't hit her, at least not in the face," admonished Barns. "Lots of men back there saw us take her; that means that she has to be handled very delicately."

"I know just what to do with the tasty little bitch, and it don't have to involve her face!" said Skunk, laughing.

"Shit, Skunk, I could do with some of that hot white girl myself," agreed Small Bear. "But Barns is right, we have to make it look like a damn accident, not a sexual assault."

"Damn waste of good pussy if you ask me," Skunk complained.

"Right, my brother," agreed Small Bear. "Prime white meat. But that can't be helped. Your bikers can bring us some more white girls when this is over, and we'll party with the bitches for a month. Right now we have to get rid of this one."

"Now boys, I don't think that murder is necessary, and anything you plan needs to be cleared with Fenster first anyway," said Barns.

"I don't see why," said Small Bear. "Fenster doesn't clear all of his actions with me. Stop the car at this next turn, Barns; I have to take a leak."

Barns pulled over and Small Bear got out slowly and walked into the bushes, leaving the door wide open behind him. Elizabeth twisted in the seat and was able to reach her seat belt clamp. With a grunt she was soon out and running into the woods on the side of the road opposite Small Bear.

"Shit!" she heard Barns shout, while Skunk laughed uncontrollably.

"Come back, Ms. Winters, you'll hurt yourself," she heard Small Bear call out, not far behind her. She pushed through bushes and stumbled almost blindly through the dark forest as three flashlight beams started to sweep about behind her. There was a full moon, but scattered clouds and trees shielded most of its light. She could see almost nothing.

Consequently, she kept running into bushes and trees and stumbling over roots and rocks as she fled the lights. She fell down a dozen times, twisting frantically to avoid landing face-first against logs or rocks.

Once when she fell she was able to wriggle the handcuffs over her butt and get her legs through, so that her cuffed hands were in front of her instead of behind. That helped immensely, though several times she still almost knocked herself out against tree trunks or poked her eyes with branches.

All the while she could hear her pursuers behind her, shouting and laughing, but they couldn't quite catch up with her, even using their flashlights. They were simply toying with her, she soon realized. A sudden strange thought chilled her, but there was nothing she could do now except try to escape: perhaps Small Bear had planned for her to escape!

A great black emptiness suddenly yawned open before her and she stopped dead in her tracks. The clouds broke and for several seconds the moon illuminated the landscape well enough for her to see that an immense open black space dropped away in front of her; one or two more steps and she would have plunged to unknown depths.

"There, Barns, see how well that worked?" said Small Bear just behind her. "Create the right circumstances, and people cooperate to do themselves in."

"You're a damned master planner all right, Small Bear," said Barns. "But I don't think Fenster will like this."

"Tough," said the big Indian. He stood just behind Elizabeth, blocking off any chance of her escape.

"Johnny called you his friend," she said. He hadn't, but she figured she'd give it a try.

Small Bear laughed. "My friend, the great Johnny Goth. He is learning now who has the real power. I have won. Everything he has will be mine, Elizabeth. Well, almost everything. I'll make do without you. My friend Skunk has been supplying me with all the women I need.

"Look below us, Elizabeth. Do you recognize Goth Valley, or are you too frightened and irrational? We're on the valley rim only a couple of miles from your beloved trees."

Elizabeth realized that he was right. A few of the old logging roads climbed up to the rim of the canyon; they must have driven up one of those while she was unconscious. They were at least a hundred meters above the Valley floor below the Goth property.

"Here," said Small Bear, "take a closer look."

As Skunk broke into maniac laughter, Small Bear pushed her gently from behind, just hard enough to make her stumble forward a step or two and over the cliff and into nothingness. She tumbled head-first down into the black depths towards death. She hadn't even had time to scream.

****

CHAPTER 21

WHITE WOLF

Two short miles away in the Goth cabin, Johnny paced in frustration. "I have to go after her."

"But they would know that," objected Ann. "That's probably one of the reasons they took her, to draw you out. I don't think they'll hurt her; she's too valuable alive. As a captive she can be used against us."

"Perhaps, but I can't take that chance."

"I'll go with you, Johnny," said Dooley. "You and me together can do it. I'm all better now. We can get her back safe." Dooley was sitting on the sofa while the two cats, Moocher and Fluffy, lay draped over his lap and shoulders, purring contentedly as he scratched them. All animals seemed to be drawn to Dooley.

"Thanks Dooley," replied Johnny, smiling. "But you're needed here, all of you are, to stop Fenster's loggers in the morning. Not to mention Dark."

"No hope for a court injunction?" asked Ann.

"No," said Mary. "Fenster has seen to that. He owns the local court. Appeals to higher courts will take time that we don't have."

"Which means it will come to rifles," said Black Knife. "But I have some bad news in that department."

"Now what?" asked Johnny.

"Most of our rifle ammunition is from the Tribal Police office. We've just found out that almost all of it is cleverly disguised blanks. We only have about five good rounds per rifle. Another Small Bear trick, it looks like."

"I wish that Chief George was here," said Two Bears, shaking his head.

"Poor George," said Summer Buck. "He must have been held prisoner in his own office, forced to sign a suicide note, and then murdered. I should have known it was some such thing when he wouldn't see me. Well, we can't afford to lose any more good men. I'm hoping that five bullets per rifle are far more than will be needed. But how do we avoid more bloodshed?"

Johnny walked to a kitchen cupboard, opened it, and retrieved two five-pound bags of sugar. The Tribe had indeed stocked the cabin well when they moved Elizabeth in. He handed them to Ned. "There are dozens of logging machines parked outside our gates. Put some of this in each gas tank tonight. It will slow them up in the morning. In the meantime I'll look for Elizabeth."

Johnny anxiously said his goodbyes and started on his quest for Elizabeth. Two Bears walked with him for a brief distance into the forest and gave him some final advice. "It is time for you to remember the ways of the forest and your heritage," said the big shaman. "Time to be White Wolf again. You will need all your powers and skills. I sense that Elizabeth lives, but is in greatest danger."

Johnny nodded then ran off through the forest. He would get her back; he had too. Nothing mattered more.

****

CHAPTER 22

CLIFF

Falling, Elizabeth knew that she would die in moments. It is strange how much can go through a person's mind in a very short time under such circumstances. She especially thought of her wonderful Johnny during most of her last seconds, and the crazy mysteries surrounding him and Goth Mountain. The Goths and the Tribe would be very hurt by her death, as would her poor Aunt.

At the same time she rejected the whole crazy notion of dying, and instinctively reached out for life with desperately flailing legs and grasping hands. She didn't want to die, and certainly not at the hands of that traitorous bastard Small Bear. But there was nothing to grasp, only fresh cool dark spring air rushing by as she tumbled down, faster and faster.

Suddenly something whacked her across the back, and then all over her body as she tumbled about, crashing through whatever it was. She was whipped and poked. Her grasping hands caught hold of some of it but it ripped through her fingers and was gone in an instant.

Then something snagged the chain linking her handcuffs and she was yanked up savagely by both arms. There was a loud cracking sound and she was swung sideways for a moment, where she slammed into something impossibly massive and hard. It had to be the cliff. At the same time she felt the handcuffs slide on whatever they had caught on, but she grabbed at the thing with both hands before it could totally slip away.

Moments after striking the cliff-face incredible pain shot through her, and she fought to remain conscious and to hold on, as she tried to figure out what was happening. Why the pain? Why was she still breathing; wasn't she dead? No, not yet, apparently.

It was a stout bush or tree branch that she now hung from, strong enough to catch her without totally breaking off, but springy enough to do the job without yanking her arms out. She was holding on to it with her right hand; she couldn't trust that the handcuffs wouldn't slip off the branch even more. Her left hand and arm didn't seem to function anymore. Instead, it was the primary source of the incredible pain. The branch had swung her left side into the cliff.

She could hear laughter from somewhere far above her. Skunk and Small Bear! Then the voices were talking, mostly too faint to understand, though she clearly heard Skunk joyfully shout "the little bitch is crow bait!" several times.

How far had she fallen? A hundred feet? More? The moon peeked out from behind the clouds for a few seconds, and she was suddenly able to see that the fractured branch that she was clinging to was hanging nearly straight down now, perhaps only two feet away from the cliff-face. The cuffs had probably originally snagged on a sub-branch somewhere further up, but then slipped off, such that only her right hand now held her, along with legs wrapped around the main branch lower down.

Looking down, she could dimly see open space and the valley floor, still far below. She couldn't tell exactly how high above the ground she was, but she was much too high to survive a resumed fall. She had to hang on.

Lights reached down from above. "I don't see her," she heard Barns say. She was thankful that she had worn her green jacket instead of the red one. "Too far down and too much brush down there. I'll have to radio this in to the state rescue rangers and get myself down there pronto. I want to be first to find the body." The lights withdrew, and then the voices. She was alone.

Her left arm and shoulder were numb and throbbing, and her right hand was tiring fast; she had to move on soon or fall. She tried to reach for the branch with her left hand, but was rewarded only by shooting pain that threatened her consciousness. She kicked her legs and tried to swing towards the cliff to get a foothold, but instead, her legs glanced off another portion of the branch, and the jolt almost caused her to lose her right hand grip.

She wrapped her legs around the main part of the branch tighter to hold some of her weight. The branch swung like a pendulum slowly, though it was scraping against the cliff, and for all she knew, it was perhaps close to breaking off completely.

Moonlight filtered again between the clouds, and she surveyed her desperate situation more critically. Above her, other dark silhouettes jutted out. Tree branches higher up must have cushioned her fall, slowing her to the point that she could be shagged by a big, springy, lower branch. Small soft aromatic needles identified the branch as hemlock. She knew that hemlock was a relatively soft, weak wood, and right now she might be hanging by just a few strands of it. The cliff-side was close, but swinging the branch towards it could break it off the rest of the way. Besides, she could see nothing but smooth rock next to her; no potential for handholds or footholds were evident. Below her black empty space yawned for at least a hundred feet.

She had only one chance, she realized: she had to climb up the branch, which stretched above her a dozen feet before disappearing around an overhang.

She pulled up mightily with her right hand with no results; one armed pull-ups were clearly out of the question. Her left foot seemed to be on a small limb that branched out from the main one, so she carefully moved the right one up and felt for similar foot-hold.

She found one, and carefully transferred more weight to it and pulled herself up perhaps half of a foot. Holding all her weight for a few seconds with her legs, she reached up higher with her good hand and pulled herself up further. Pain shot through her left arm, but she had again moved up several inches.

She repeated this process endlessly, inches at a time, slowly working her way up the branch. Her left arm seemed to be broken, and despite her efforts to protect it, agonizing pain shot through it again and again, especially on the occasions when her footing slipped, which was too often. Her sneakers seemed to be covered in grease.

There were fewer and fewer side-branches to use by the time she reached the lip of the overhang, and the main branch was becoming too thick to grasp as it pressed against the rock; good handholds on it were knuckle bruising and all but impossible. At that point though, she started to find handholds in the cliff face, despite slippery moss and loose and crumbling rock.

Suddenly her searching hand met a solid tree-trunk about a foot in diameter. Her life-saving tree clung to a narrow ledge covered with thick roots that provided excellent hand-holds.

In another minute she was wedged comfortably between the Hemlock tree-trunk and the cliff, which stretched up and out of sight. With her back resting against the cliff and her legs wrapped around the tree, she was for the moment safe and secure. She felt like shouting or laughing, but she was too exhausted and beat up.

She took inventory as she rested and caught her breath. Her thin green jacket, the flannel shirt beneath that, and the T-shirt beneath that were shredded, and her blue-jeans weren't much better, but they had saved her from most scrapes and bruises. Her hands were scraped raw, and she bled a bit from dozens of minor wounds, enough blood to make her sneakers slippery, but hopefully nothing serious.

Her left arm was more of a problem. No bones were poking through yet, but based on gentle probing she knew that it must be broke below the elbow. Something was also wrong with her left shoulder, and both the upper arm and the shoulder hurt like hell. She broke off a small tree limb and slid it up her left jacket sleeve, to serve as a crude splint.

She knew that Barns was driving down into the valley to look for her body. They would have search lights. She couldn't remain on the cliff exposed to their view; she had to get herself somewhere else fast. The cliff ledge that she and the tree were perched on disappeared down-valley, but stretched East towards the Reservation and the Goth place, a couple feet wide and covered with bushes and small trees, most of them much smaller than the one that had saved her. She moved along the ledge slowly.

Looking and feeling every inch of the way, she couldn't find any path up or down. Finally, where the ledge widened a bit and a trickle of water welled out from a crevice in the rock, another surprisingly large hemlock with a trunk two-feet in diameter grew. Beyond it, the ledge ended completely. But she noticed that the tree's branches reached far up the rock-face, and that most of its roots followed the tiny stream down over the cliff as far as she could see.

Up or down? Gravity and her physical condition made the choice for her. She couldn't possibly climb up. Even if this big tree reached clear to the top of the cliff, she didn't have the strength for such a climb. After a refreshing drink of spring water she picked the largest tree root and slid slowly down it, relying mostly on her legs to hold her weight.

The big root followed the tiny stream half way down the cliff. Bushes provided handholds the rest of the way down. She finally made reached the valley floor safely, despite now being wet and increasingly cold, exhausted, dizzy headed from loss of blood, and wracked with pain.

She wanted desperately to rest, but knew that Barns would appear at any moment. Soon she was stumbling past huge rotting tree stumps among small trees and bushes so thick that she had problems getting through.

Fortunately, it was still all downhill; when all else failed she leaned into the foliage and fell forward through it, a few feet forward and down at a time. She tried to protect her left arm and shoulder but pain still lanced through it, though all pain was by now gradually fading into a more comfortable dull numbness. Shock was setting in, she managed to reason. Everything was fading, consciousness as well as pain.

Suddenly she tumbled through bushes into a surprisingly open area. Somehow she was no longer standing; she was laying down. It immediately felt wonderful to lie there with her face in the dust. In a few moments she recognized where she was; she was laying in the road that led through Goth Valley. Rutted and bumpy, it was still blissfully flat, compared to where she had been walking, and the packed dirt and gravel was still wonderfully warm from the strong Spring Sun. Forest night sounds sang gentle lullabies. She wanted to sleep. She needed desperately to sleep.

Dimly through the haze of her throbbing mind she heard sirens, coming closer. Moments before the headlights hit her she somehow pulled myself up and stumbled into the bushes at the far side of the road, twisting an ankle painfully as she again fell. She hit the ground hard, but by now she almost welcomed new pain when it overcame the numbness. It showed her that she was alive and helped to keep her awake.

She heard vehicle doors and voices very close-by. It was Barns. "She has got to be right in there somewhere, along the base of the cliff."

"That's heavy bush. Even if we find her quick it might take an hour or two to get her out," said another voice.

"I saw her go over. Fall like that must have broken every bone she had. Damn shame; she was a young woman. But I want her found and out of there quick, before animals get at the body. I'll get more of my own men down here."

"She was a school teacher you say?"

"Right. She took up with a trouble-maker named Johnny Goth recently, it looks like. Went so nuts at the Goth place when we served some legal papers tonight that we charged her with assault. I figured a night in jail would cool her off. We drove up the old logging road to avid all those crazy tree-huggers gathering down here in the valley. We had her sedated and I was driving her towards town when she came to and bolted from the front seat of the squad car, handcuffs and all. I hit the brakes when I heard her open the door. That saved her from breaking her neck when she jumped from the car, but she was able to get up and run away.

"My fault; I shouldn't have trusted in the sedatives. I should have followed standard protocol and had her in the back seat, locked away as if she was a serious prisoner. She headed straight for the cliffs. There was nothing I could do but chase after her, with the Indian Reservation cop Small Bear helping. It was pitch dark; she couldn't have seen the danger. She went over the cliff just as we caught up with her. Damn crying shame."

Barns was only a few feet from her, Elizabeth realized dimly. Giddy from pain and exhaustion and absurdity, he had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. They turned and walked away and she couldn't make out their words anymore. She thought of calling out then and taking her chances with whomever Barns was talking to, but that would have only made it too easy for Barns or someone else on the Fenster payroll to take custody of her again and finish her off.

On bloodied right hand and knees she crawled further from the road as quietly as she could, then stood and limped slowly up-valley in parallel with it. She fell down, then got up and stumbled a few more feet, then fell down again. Fully unconscious, she did not rise again.

A shadow separated from an enormous nearby rotting tree trunk and moved to stand over Elizabeth. Dark shook his werewolf head in disappointment. The event that had drawn his avid attention had ended without revealing anything of real interest. But perhaps it gave him an opportunity to move things along himself.

Today he had been to the Mountain and had seen the thing that the humans called the Source. He recognized at once that he had at last found what he had sought for many centuries. He hadn't seen it for over ten thousand years. It obviously invigorated normal plant and animal life, though he could sense nothing at all from it. His so-call kin, the ancients known as the People, were also very interested in it, as evidenced by the One Tree that he had seen nearby. He had found them in the distant past, but had met defeat. This time would be different. This time they would all die.

He was excited to have at long lost found both the Source and the People, but the experience had frustrated him, for he had been totally unable to do anything with the Cube object or to it. So far. As he gained more power he would be able to control it, he was certain.

He was tempted to kill the woman now, but he wanted Johnny. Johnny would track her down of course, and he could take him then, but that alone wouldn't get Dark what he wanted either. He wanted the shaman also. Together they had what he needed. After that he would be stronger, strong enough to kill the unicorns and to control the Source.

He gently picked up the woman and quickly carried her away, trotting quietly on clawed back feet.

****

The cloud cover broke again and above and behind Johnny Goth the Moon lit the scene before him. He smiled. Shining Moon was to be Elizabeth's Indian name, he decided, at that moment. He was standing quietly in the shadows, pausing in his quest for Elizabeth for a few moments to watch Ned put sugar into fuel tanks.

The shape-shifter made it look easy. Currently Ned was in the form of a deputy that was now consulting with his fellow cops at the far end of the machines and men assembled along the Goth property line. As he stood in front of each fuel tank he simply grow an extra arm in back that opened the tank and dumped sugar inside of it.

But the real officer was returning, walking straight towards Ned. Johnny walked up to the man casually.

"Hey!" the deputy said, as he recognized Johnny and reached for his gun, "aren't you ..."

Johnny knocked him out with a quick punch to his chin, grabbed him under his arms and carried him into the shadows and far enough away to not be easily heard.

It took only a minute to heal and revive him. When the deputy woke he was lying face up with his hands tied behind his back, and Johnny kneeled beside him. "Where did they take Elizabeth Winters?" Johnny asked, as the man's eyes opened and focused on his captor.

"Mr. Goth! I don't have nothing against you or her, I'm just doing my job."

"Answer my question," replied Johnny firmly.

"They drove her up that old logging road that goes up the South side of the valley. Then they say she jumped out of their squad car."

"She got away?"

"No. Look, I didn't have nothing to do with any of it."

"I believe you. What happened to her? Tell me."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Goth. They say she fell off the cliff."

Johnny felt like he had been slapped across the face. "Where?" he whispered.

"A mile or so down the valley. South side."

"When?"

"Half hour ago, tops. But they ain't found her body yet and it's driving the Sheriff nuts."

"They haven't found her body?"

"It's not at the cliff bottom where they expected to find it. They figure she must have got snagged on the way down. They're going to get searchlights and climbers there in an hour or two."

"Who left here with her and drove her up the cliff?"

"Not me. It was the Sheriff, Skunk, and that Indian top cop named Small Bear."

"Where are they now?"

"At the cliff somewhere, I think. I don't know. Listen, that's all that I know."

Johnny stood up and stared down-valley, then at his captive. "I'll have to leave you tied up, but you'll be OK."

"I feel OK. Didn't you slug me hard? I'm not even sore."

"Good," said Johnny, as he tied the man's feet together and gagged him. "If I were you I'd wait until morning when you can see what you're doing, then hop towards the road. Work off the gag and call for help. Then leave the entire area. If I see you again I won't be so generous."

With that, he disappeared into the night.

The cliff where the deputy had indicated was crowded with uniformed searchers carrying lights. Using all his senses Johnny searched himself and quickly concluded that Elizabeth's body was nowhere in the vicinity. What he did find however, was very disturbing.

****

Barns was personally searching the cliff base for a fourth time, cursing under his breath. His deputies were a hundred meters further down the valley, marching in a line towards him, doing their second coordinated search. He could see some of their lights, scanning the cliff-face and the base of the cliff. Occasionally Barns himself pointed his powerful flashlight up the cliff, hoping to see Elizabeth's mangled body caught on a protruding bush or rock.

Damn that Small Bear, this was another senseless death, as far as he could see. That meant yet more publicity. Fenster certainly wasn't happy about it. Between Small Bear and Dark, there was too much violence to explain away, and he had a feeling things were only going to get worse. "Where the hell is she?"

Suddenly a powerful arm circled his neck in a choke-hold, and he was half carried, half dragged away from the cliff and his approaching men, and into a nearby stand of bushes. He couldn't call for help, but he kicked and elbowed his abductor repeatedly, with no apparent effect. His attacker was obviously much stronger than he was. Inhumanly strong.

When he was finally released and spun around to face his abductor, he was surprised to see not Dark's face in the Moonlight, but Johnny Goth's.

"Do not cry out or I will kill you immediately," Goth told him.

There was a steely edge to Goth's voice. Barns decided not to cross him. "What do you want?"

"If you lie to me now I will know, and I will be forced to hurt you. Tell me about Elizabeth."

"It wasn't my idea; Small Bear has been playing all of us. He gave her the opportunity to escape and then he pushed her over the cliff."

"And you went along with it. Where is Small Bear now?"

"Having a face-to-face with Fenster in town. Listen, killing Elizabeth was all Small Bear's idea. The rest of us are not happy about it at all."

"So you admit that it was murder."

"OK, I do, but Small Bear did it all."

"Which is why you still live. That and the fact that she also still lives."

"What?"

"Dark took her."

"Dark took her?"

"I can read the signs. He carried her away after she stumbled and crawled away from the cliff herself. He won't kill her though, not until he gets what he wants."

"I heard that he wants to be the one to kill you. He has her, so now you have to go after him. That's it, am I right?"

"Exactly right."

"If you knew all this already Goth, though I don't know how the hell you could, what do you want with me?"

"I have a message for Small Bear and don't have time right now to deliver it myself. Tell him that he is a coward without honor and that I challenge him. Tell him to meet me alone on the Mountain, after I've settled with Dark. Winner takes all."

Barns laughed. "Why the hell would he care? In the first place, you'll be dead; Dark will kill you, and Small Bear will get everything he wants anyway, as long as Fenster gets his split. In the second place, why would he fall for such a juvenile thing?"

"His pride. Will you tell him?"

"Why not? Like I said, you'll already be dead. Not that you aren't a hell of a fighter, but I've seen what Dark can do. He isn't even human. So I don't see why I wouldn't tell Small Bear. He'll know that it means that you'll be a dead man before you can get to him."

Johnny smiled. "Small Bear complicates things for you and Fenster, and so does Dark. Am I right? Loose cannons, aren't they? They've both just about outlived their usefulness to you, I'm betting. If you're lucky, Dark and I will do away with each other. And if I survive Dark, then maybe Small Bear and I will do away with each other. That's it; am I right?"

"Maybe."

"One last thing, Barns." With one hand Johnny grabbed the Sheriff's jacket front and casually lifted him off the ground. "If I do survive Dark and Small Bear, both you and Fenster better watch your step, because you're next on my list." He effortlessly tossed Barns ten meters through the air.

Barns tumbled to the ground roughly, his fall broken by a stand of saplings. He lay on the ground for several seconds, staring up at the Moon. He was a bit bruised but he was alive and nothing was broken, and Goth was gone. "Son of a bitch!" he muttered.

Minutes later near the Goth Cabin, Johnny paused in his pursuit, sat down, closed his eyes, and caused his awareness to expand far beyond himself, following the trail of evil left by Dark's passing. " _They passed this close to the cabin, yet you did not sense them_?" he asked Two Bears.

" _We must conclude that he can shield himself well when he wishes to_ , _and probably has shielded Elizabeth also_ ," replied Two Bears. " _That he has left such a clear trail for you to follow means that he wishes to be found. Judging by who it is that he has taken, he most certainly wishes to be found by you, Johnny._ "

"Yes, but only at the place of his choosing. He waits at the Source. Elizabeth is there too, alive but injured from a fall caused by Small Bear. She sleeps peacefully now but needs a healer."

"So, you have already mastered the skill of far-seeing. It is well. You are coming into your full powers, Johnny. But Dark is an ancient evil master of great and deadly powers. He is undoubtedly the legendary mortal enemy of the People. You should not face him alone. Ned is asking for help from The People, but we do not know if or when they will arrive. I should go with you now to face Dark."

"No, my friend. That would leave the Forest and cabin unguarded. You are needed at the cabin to counter Fenster's loggers. They might not wait until morning. Aside from yourself, is there anything that you can tell me that might help me battle Dark?"

"I can give you something that might help, Johnny. I am coming to you now, to give it to you."

Once more Johnny moved his spirit presence to Elizabeth and checked her condition. She was still unconscious, but was growing stronger, due to her close proximity to the Source. He spoke to her, in her mind, but again she did not respond. He decided that he would try to accelerate her recovery by moving more of himself to her.

Suddenly Dark, who had been standing nearby Elizabeth, moved over her, kneeled, and placed his clawed hand firmly around her throat. His wolf jaws dripped saliva. "Someone else is here," he announced aloud. "A spirit presence I can sense. I want the physical Johnny Goth here, very soon, and only Johnny, and I want you, whoever you are, to leave this place now, or I'll tear the girl apart, one little piece at a time."

Johnny reluctantly withdrew from her. When he opened his eyes, Two Bears was sitting cross-legged in front of him. The shaman held his big sheathed hunting knife in his huge hands. He reached out and handed it to Johnny. "I return this to you for now. Like your watch, is a gift from the People that has certain powers. Take it with you. Used as a weapon it may be effective even against Dark."

"Thanks. Any more advice?"

"Nothing that you have time for, except this. Help is coming from the People. Try to stall Dark until it does. The other thing to remember is that your powers are strongest near the Source, and that the Forest is also alive and strong. A shame your shaman powers are modest, or you might be able to more easily call on them."

Johnny nodded and stood up; Two Bears stood and hugged him. "My spirit will be with you, White Wolf, and the Spirit of the Forest."

Johnny ran through the dark woods swiftly, dodging trees and other obstacles that he sensed. When he reached the inner fence, he flew over it, continued to rise above the treetops, and flew swiftly towards Elizabeth, Dark, and The Source.

****

CHAPTER 23

CONFRONTATION

Elizabeth awoke confused, cold, and aching. Why were her arm and shoulder throbbing, along with her poor aching head? She was obviously outside, lying on the ground. Where and why?

Just as she remembered Small Bear's betrayal and falling from the cliff, she opened her eyes. Over her in the moonlight stood a nightmare creature, humanoid, but not human. Long black hair covered its otherwise naked body. A wolf-face with glowing red eyes stared at her. Dark!

She sensed movement out of the corner of her eye, and with a thud Dark was gone, knocked away by a figure that suddenly stood in the monster's place. "Johnny!" exclaimed Elizabeth softly.

He knelt and gently held her in his arms. "Did he hurt you?"

"I don't know for sure, but I don't think so. I got hurt mostly by Small Bear and falling off a cliff."

"I know. Leave here if you can walk. Head down the trail for the Great Tree," he told her. Gently he helped her to stand up. The whole time he never took his eyes off Dark, however, who was watching them from where he still lay.

"Very impressive for a mere human, Goth," hissed Dark. He only partly stood and instead assumed a crouching stance, coiled like a steel spring, only five meters from Johnny. "I didn't sense your arrival. You flew here, of course."

"Elizabeth is leaving. I'm the one you want." He stepped left slowly, putting himself squarely between Dark and Elizabeth, who began limping away slowly.

"Oh, I'll kill her too, though not until after I've killed you. But first you need to tell me a few things, which is why I wanted to meet you here."

"Sure thing," Johnny replied, as he pulled Two Bears' knife out of its sheath. "I'm your man. Let's have a nice pleasant conversation. Exactly what do you want to know?"

"You get a boost from that mirror thing over there, don't you?" He pointed a clawed finger at the Cube. "It makes you stronger."

"And you don't get a boost at all? Not surprising. I have a theory about that."

"You humans are full of theories, aren't you? My theory is that you all have to do that because you are so weak. Human theories and science bore me; but very well, tell me your theory."

"The Cube is somehow tuned to strengthen normal Earth life, not beings such as you. You aren't alive in the normal sense, are you?"

"We aren't related, if that's what you mean. Your biology is closer to that of an earthworm than it is to mine. What you call the Cube has indeed tuned me out, but when you and the rest are dead I'll get it to feed all of its power to me alone."

"Are you in a hurry? Aren't you immortal? In any case, I don't think you'll ever be able to control the Cube."

"You're stalling."

"True; I do want Elizabeth to get away."

"She can't get away." He crouched even further as though preparing to leap, and took a threatening step towards Elizabeth. "Out of curiosity, what do you think that you know about this thing that you so ignorantly call a Cube?"

Johnny shifted his position slightly to stay interposed between Dark and Elizabeth. "Alright I'll gladly tell you what little I know. In a nutshell, the Cube is beyond our understanding or control. We know almost nothing about it, except that it's been here for a very long time."

"Your friends The People are interested in it, or they wouldn't have their One Tree here." Dark nodded in the direction of the big aspen. "Does that give you a hint about its origins?"

"They're here because they're interested in concealing it and themselves from human society."

"They have a closer relationship with the Cube than that, much closer than they can remember. They have mostly forgotten what they are and who I am. That is part of my plan and it will be their downfall."

"Their One Tree, which is normal life or close to it, gathers strength from the Cube," said Johnny.

"And unicorns? What do you know about unicorns, Goth? And what do the unicorns remember about the Cube? Not much; I've seen to that too."

"I know nothing that will help you."

"We shall see."

With a roar Dark pounced; so sudden and swift that Johnny was barely able to dodge to one side and avoid him. The creature, screaming with rage, immediately span around and leapt again at Johnny, brandishing slashing claws and jaws.

Johnny met the second attack head-on, was knocked down backwards but kicked up at Dark's body with both feet, flipping Dark over and past him, while slashing up at the wolf man with the knife of Two Bears. They ended up again crouching and facing each other.

"You're bleeding, Goth," snarled Dark. Even in only Moonlight, Dark could see that four deep gashes had been inflicted across Johnny's face by his clawed hand. "My claws are poison. Your wounds won't heal. You're already dead, Goth, within minutes, no matter what else happens."

Johnny smiled. "I don't think so." As Dark watched, the wounds on Johnny's face disappeared in moments.

"Interesting, but you only delay the inevitable." Shrieking, Dark leapt yet again, but instead of landing on Johnny, he found himself floating several meters above his adversary, his claws hopelessly slashing at empty air. After a few moments he stopped struggling and looked down at Johnny. Using his own telekinetic powers he tried to oppose Johnny, but quickly found that he was no match for the human. "Very impressive. But I doubt you can do this forever, Goth. My physical strength far exceeds yours, and I weigh twice as much as you do, human. You'll exhaust yourself and be helpless very soon."

"I suspect that I can do this for several hours, Dark. As you say, I get a boost from the Source. While we wait for help to arrive why don't we talk again for a while? You appear to seek knowledge, and I am also curious about you. Perhaps you could tell me things about the Cube that I don't know."

"Indeed I could, but your curiosity is pointless. You'll soon be dead, after I've beaten and taken what I want from you."

"Humor me. What could it hurt? You are a walking mystery. Why the wolf shape, for example?"

"I've become very used to and fond of this shape, much as our little goat friend is used to his goat shape. I enjoy being a wolf. I find that it helps my victims get into the right mood for their deaths. I find that they taste better terrorized; not only their physical parts, but echoes of their dying terrified psychic essences are exquisite."

"I feel both insulted and envious of someone that can actually look like a wolf. My Tribe name is White Wolf."

Dark laughed. "You amuse me, but I don't much like surprises. Your pin-filled death will feed me."

"You like to be in control."

"I AM in control, human," snarled Dark. He pointed a clawed index finger at Johnny, which suddenly flashed with intense blue-white light.

Johnny dodged when he saw the flash, but even so, his right side and leg were singed as a bolt of lightning knocked him painfully to the ground. His concentration disrupted, Dark dropped halfway towards Johnny before the human could regain focus and stop the decent.

Dark reached down towards him with a clawed hand. It should have still been impossible for him to reach his foe, but the black-furred arm stretched like it was rubber, until thinned, elongated, talon-like fingers grasped the forearm that Johnny had thrown up reflexively for protection.

Johnny shouted more from surprise than from pain, as blue fire from the watch in his breast pocket cascaded over him. He felt a surge of impossible strength. As Dark landed in front of him, Johnny twisted out of his vise-like grasp and at the same time sliced at Dark's elongated arm with the shaman hunting knife.

The knife sliced deeply into the creature's arm, who with an angry snarl checked his progress towards Johnny and backed away cautiously. Though the arm had been cut nearly all the way through, there was no blood and it re-formed itself in seconds.

"I understand well where you get most of your power, Goth. It's not just that Cube over there that you sometimes aptly call the Source, or your inherent human-based skills. It's the parts of your unicorn friends that you carry with you as artifacts. Soon they will all be mine, and their power will be mine. But you're still no match for me, human. You can't begin to match my power." He again advanced on Johnny.

"But we can," said a new voice, a whinnying voice that twinkled and sparkled like chiming bells on the wind.

Dark roared in anger as he turned to look at the newcomers, then bounded away into the shadows, disappearing.

When he at last was sure that the danger was past and he turned to view the newcomers, Johnny's face broke into a broad smile. Approaching from the One Tree, with their perfect white bodies and crystal-blue horns glowing brighter than the Moon, pranced two magnificent unicorns.

****

CHAPTER 24

THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE

Johnny was as surprised and happy to see who was stumbling towards him from the nearby bushes, as he was to see the unicorns. "Elizabeth?" He ran to hold her close, while again being careful with her broken arm. "I told you to go to the Great Tree!"

"Leave you alone with that monster? Not a chance, Johnny Goth." In truth she was too weak and confused to make the trip anyway. She felt numb and ached everywhere, including her poor head.

"A logical choice, human," spoke again the smaller of the unicorns. "You are indeed safer here. The Evil One has retreated only temporarily, I suspect, and not very far."

"Pru," replied Johnny, smiling. "It is good to see you again. And Baldor."

"I have never been far from you, Wolf Cub," said Pru.

"You mean the gold watch," said Elizabeth.

Johnny was suddenly aware that his manners had been lacking. "Pru and Baldor, this is my fiancée, Elizabeth Winters. Elizabeth, meet Pru and Baldor of the People."

"You are deeply injured, Elizabeth," said Pru. "The Evil One has hurt you more than you know."

"I've just now patched her up a bit," said Johnny. "I can heal myself really good, but I'm not nearly as good with others. She needs still more healing." he put her arm around her and helped steady her, and was shocked when he learned just how weak she was. He telepathically relayed his concern to Pru.

"The Evil One's work, but she shall soon be healed further, Wolf Cub," answered Pru. "I ask that the two of you go to the Land with me now. There she may be healed most quickly, and there also you will learn more of your father."

Johnny frowned. "Ned or Two Bears has told you that Ned's secret is out?"

"Not exactly. The watch and knife are both small parts of me, Wolf Cub. At times of great need, they can give me glimpses of you and what you think and see."

"You know everything that happens to me?"

"Far from it. The powers of the watch and knife are limited, and are usually focused on other matters."

"Such as giving me powers?"

"Again not exactly, small one, though it can provide temporary surges of strength," voiced Baldor in a deep voice, breaking his silence. "The greatest power that we unicorns possess is to shield those around us from a force that prevents them from learning and using powers that they already possess. As long as you carry the watch, your own natural powers are freed."

"Even away from the Mountain?"

"The Mountain merely amplifies your life-force," said Pru. "Your basic abilities are yours. Such powers have always been strong in the Goth family."

"Amazing. I have many more things to learn, but first Elizabeth must be helped."

"Yes, young ones, the time has come to go," said Pru. "Both of you should ride on my back. Baldor will remain here to watch over the one you call Dark."

Elizabeth, who had been standing supported by Johnny, was suddenly swept up into his strong arms. Though weak and in pain despite strengthening by the Source and Johnny's continuing first aid efforts, she studied the unicorn as they stepped closer to it.

Pru was the size of an average horse, and similar in shape to a slim Arabian, but there the resemblance ended. She was without a doubt the most stunning and incredible thing Elizabeth had ever seen. Her fur glowed perfect white, as white as the whitest snow, trimmed by silver-gold hooves, mane, tail, and lesser tufts of long hair ringing the ankles above the hooves.

Two other striking features drew her attention most, however. A glowing blue-tinged horn spiraled more than half a meter from Pru's forehead. Below the horn the two eyes that stared at her were overly large and perfectly black, ageless, bottomless pits, somehow infinitely blacker than the night. They reminded her of Dark's eyes, she realized.

Almost before she knew it, she and Johnny, after a few moments of floating in the air, were sitting on Pru's glowing back. Elizabeth sat in front, cuddled protectively by Johnny. Pru's back felt like that of a mortal horse, she was delighted to find, warm and slightly padded over solid muscle, but at the same time reassuringly sturdy and powerful. Best of all, being with Pru and Johnny was gradually taking away some of her pain and numbness.

"Hold on to my mane," directed the unicorn.

Johnny and Elizabeth each grasped a handful of flowing silvery-gold mane, as Pru stepped towards the One Tree so smoothly that she seemed to be almost gliding.

"Do not fear, small ones," said Pru. "Inside the rock you will be kept safe and comfortable, and our journey though infinitely far by some measures will not take very long."

"Inside the rock?" muttered Elizabeth, as Pru's horn suddenly glowed much brighter; a cold light that illuminated without burning or irritating the eyes. They reached the tree and continued without pause, moving past it and into the black volcano as if it wasn't even there. But for the glowing unicorn and its beacon-like horn, they were plunged into darkness, except for a meter-thick, white, glowing tube underfoot that stretched ahead into the darkness. It was the tap-root of the One Tree, the humans realized.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," said Johnny. "Unicorns can travel through things, and take their friends with them."

"We're inside Goth Mountain?" Elizabeth asked, when she could find her voice.

"Far beyond it by now, small one," said Pru. Although the unicorn seemed to be walking slowly with her silver-gold hooves, they appeared to be flying along the root so fast that it was a blur.

"Why don't we see rock?" asked Elizabeth. "We only see the root."

"The root lives, the rock does not," stated Pru. "It is most easy for me to remove all the effects of what does not live."

"What's that then?" asked Johnny, pointing at a vast, dark, shadowy bulk to their left.

"It is a layer of rock rich in what you call iron, Wolf Cub. It is somewhat resistant to my powers. I understand that it is also resistant to many human inventions."

"How do we breathe rock?" asked Johnny. "And how can we speak to each other?"

"Very simple. I brought air with us. We and it exist now apart from your world."

"In another universe?" asked Johnny in amazement.

"Nearly so. Your world is only slightly askew from this one, as our powers for concealment are limited. Such skills allow us to conceal the Land of the People from your kind and from others."

"The Land is where you live?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yes. It is our sanctuary from your world," answered Pru. "Our legends tell us that thousands of years ago, before your kind overran all the Earth, we withdrew to such places to avoid powerful enemies. Only a few of us ever left our sanctuaries, and we interfered only rarely in human affairs. This is our last sanctuary."

"But you do want the Source to be guarded also," said Johnny.

"Yes. It has been hidden near us for as long as we can remember, though it is beyond our powers to do anything other than help to hide it. We bask in its great power, but we fear that it is a danger to us and to others."

"Where are you from?" asked Elizabeth.

"It was so long ago we no longer remember. Perhaps far distant in terms of space, time, and the laws of nature as currently understood by man."

"What is an elemental?"

"Merely a human term that has been used to describe some of us and some of our enemies. The People all differ greatly from life such as yours. Elementals differ most greatly. Elementals are as much energy as they are matter."

"And Dark?" asked Johnny.

"Dark is our ancient enemy. We sense that he is very similar to us in composition. He is at least partly elemental. Perhaps he copied our structure to himself, much as our People have copied Earthly life-forms. Not all life developed as did yours. Dark is an ancient evil; an evil that strives to become fully elemental and all-powerful."

"Not a visitor like you?" asked Elizabeth.

Before responding, Pru snorted and whinnied strangely. "Earth has been our home for a very long time, mortal," she stated. "Ours is much more than a visit. Earth is our home. Dark has been our enemy for as long as we can remember. His origins are as great a mystery as our own."

"Sorry to ask so many questions," said Elizabeth, afraid that she had been rebuked.

"Don't be," responded Pru, after whinnying again. "Curiosity is a highly valued trait; one of the more important things that makes humans more preferable to associate with than Dark, even though he may physically resemble us much more closely. Also, we learn much about you from your questions. You are as worthy of our study as we are of yours. But there is now no more time for such talk. We arrive."

They had slowed down to walking speed. The glowing root that they followed joined with another, larger root, and then another, until what they followed was a white-glowing root as thick as a bus. For a moment Elizabeth and Johnny glimpsed a great conflagration of dozens of merging roots of titanic size, and then they broke through into the open.

They were on the edge of a great clearing. The whole area was dimly lit, to about the level that would be provided by a full moon, although no glowing lunar orb was visible. Rather, a dim glow seemed to emanate from the entire sky, or roof, or whatever was overhead. The air was comfortably warm with a slight breeze, and it smelled wonderfully of life. Forest night sounds filled the air. Stands of trees, bushes and great boulders loomed nearby, but it was impossible to identify most objects very well in the near-darkness.

Beside them rose an enormous Aspen tree, fully as large as the Great Tree of Goth Mountain. The One Tree glowed slightly, and might easily have become the focus of their attention if not for the ten-meter tall naked giant that stood before them.

****

Dark bounded stealthily through the forest, staying ahead of the unicorn that followed him. He would have stood and faced any of the People except a unicorn. Unicorn powers nearly matched his, and he wasn't currently prepared to face one. Very soon he would be, however. He would not venture here again without being fully prepared. Very soon all their power would be his. Then this world and many others would be his to consume.

While the People had remained withdrawn and hidden, Dark had infiltrated humans and devoured their life forces by the hundreds. Life was too precious a thing to waste, it was better that it be devoured. But that was only a hint of what would soon come. After he had consumed the People and their human allies, he would consume all humans.

Ahead of him along the obscure trail that he followed, he sensed a human, moving on the trail in the same direction that he was. Lopping along wolf-like, Dark rapidly gained on his prey. "Ow-ooooooo," howled Dark, as he sighted the man in the moonlight. It was a uniformed Tribe member, a police officer of some sort. Instead of running, the fool actually stopped and was speaking excitedly into a hand-held radio.

With a scream, Dark attacked, barely swerving in time to avoid being skewered by the unicorn, which suddenly materialized in front of the terrified human with its sharp horn lowered to meet the charging werewolf. Blue lightning crackled from the horn and enveloped Dark, slamming him away and against a huge tree trunk.

Screaming with rage, Dark pushed away from the tree and leapt at the unicorn, planning to dodge the horn and sink his jaws into the neck of the creature.

His jaws closed on empty air, however, as the unicorn completely disappeared and then reappeared a few meters away, with its horn again aimed squarely at him. He screamed again in anger and frustration, and in pain, as another bolt of power from the horn struck him down.

He was slower to get up this time. It had been a very long time; he had forgotten how difficult and dangerous unicorns could be. This one was unusually large, powerful, and skilled.

He recognized his foe as he regained his feet. "Baldor," Dark hissed. "Your name is Baldor, unicorn. We have fought before, more than once."

"We will fight still more unless you leave this place, Evil One," replied Baldor.

Dark said nothing but sprang snarling towards the terrified and cowering tribesman. He was again met by the unicorn, as Dark knew that he would be, but this time he expected the unicorn stallion to make himself solid and vulnerable, to stop him from striking the human. Dark twisted to avid the horn and slashed deadly claws at the flank of his foe, only to find air, but at least his momentum carried him into the tribesman. He expected to crush and slash the human to bits, but was surprised to pass also through the man as though the human wasn't there. Another unicorn trick, of course. The unicorn had moved the human, leaving an image to fool him. A moment later a bolt of blue lightning again flattened him.

"Interesting, unicorn, but how long can you do this?"

"An eternity. But my patience is less enduring. I would rather not destroy you, but I will if you force me to. Your presence and actions here will not be tolerated. Leave this place. This is your final warning."

Always it was the same; they always rejected him, though they were kin. In frustration and rage, Dark flung a powerful lightning bolt of his own at the unicorn, but quickly realized that this was a totally useless tactic. The bolt was completely absorbed by the unicorn's horn without bothering it in the slightest. Manipulating power was a unicorn specialty, Dark recalled. No, there was only one thing that really bothered unicorns, and luckily some of it was lying right at the feet of the cowering human. Dark grasped it in a clawed hand and swung it at Baldor with all his immense strength.

The steel rifle barrel struck the side of Baldor's head with such force that the unicorn was knocked off his feet. Howling in triumph, Dark grasped and raised the rifle in both hands with the intent to thrust the barrel into his foe like a spear. He was howling in pain a moment later when a lightning blast from Baldor's horn struck the rifle and the clawed hands that held it. The blast melted then vaporized the rifle almost instantly, exploding in Dark's hands and knocking him away and to the ground once again.

By the time he regained his feet Baldor was before him, floating a meter above the ground, body as well as horn glowing brighter than the sun, terrible black eyes fixed on him, horn lowering towards him.

Dark had seen this sort of unicorn behavior before, only a few thousand years earlier, and knew exactly what to do. He ran. As fast as he could, with all thoughts of stealth or prey or continuing the fight gone, he fled, so fast that he plowed through several small tree trunks in his haste. He didn't stop until he was ten miles away, where he stopped only to get his bearings before running another five miles at a more leisurely pace.

Finally he stopped and rested. He hadn't expended this much energy in centuries. Worse, he had come uncomfortably close to his own death. The unicorn had been building up to a titanic release of power, one that could have destroyed him had it struck him, and would probably have destroyed the unicorn as well, and half the Mountain. Most surprising, the unicorn's extreme reaction had been provoked by his attempt to attack a mere human.

That intrigued Dark. Was a random human so important to the unicorn that it would risk its own immortal life? It certainly seemed so. That was good; it was yet another unicorn weakness that he could possibly exploit.

Perhaps it would be prudent for him to leave the entire area, but Dark had decided to stay. He was going to do something that he rarely did; he was going to take yet more risks. He calculated that now was the time to win it all. He would finally play the end-game that he had long been preparing for. The People would soon be no more, and he would control a prize that they no longer understood, a prize that would allow him to attack other worlds once he was done destroying this one.

****

In the Holy Forest, the monster and the unicorn stallion had both disappeared. Though shaken, Tribe Deputy Grey Badger pulled himself off the ground and continued his patrol. As soon as practicable he would tell Two Bears what he had seen, but couldn't trust this story to a radio transmission. Besides, to be properly told he would need to be dancing and singing around a campfire, after passing around some home-made whisky. The Tribe made a few gallons each year for special occasions, and this story definitely rated whisky. A lot of whisky.

****

"WELCOME TO OUR LAND OF THE FAIRY, JOHNNY GOTH AND LADY ELIZABETH," thundered the Giant with a voice so deep and loud that the Earth seemed to tremble. "I AM GOR." That Gor was male was embarrassingly obvious, despite the dim light and the profusion of hair that covered him, for other than hair he was totally naked.

"Holy shits," muttered Elizabeth.

The unicorn did its odd snorting whinny again, which Elizabeth by now was sure was laughter.

"YOU GREW UP, WOLF CUB," said the giant, smiling.

"And you gained weight," replied Johnny.

The forest echoed from Gor's laughter.

"Gor is our best healer, Elizabeth," said Pru. "Sit in his hand and he will help you. The Evil One has hurt you more than you know."

Gor sat down and rested his back against the One Tree, reached out to place his immense right hand in front of Elizabeth, and turned it palm up.

"Go ahead," said Johnny, as he helped Elizabeth climb up onto the huge hand. "Make yourself comfortable."

Elizabeth lay back as Gor held her next to his massive, hairy chest. The hand felt like a pleasantly warm and well-padded leather recliner, and was similar in size. In spite of everything, she found that she could indeed relax.

"I WON'T HURT YOU, LITTLE LADY," said Gor. "REST. I WILL DO THE WORK." He took a great deep breath and closed his eyes. His hairy brow wrinkled in concentration. "OH!" he exclaimed. "EVIL HAS STRUCK WITHIN YOU; BUT GORE WILL REMOVE IT."

Johnny and Pru stood silently watching. The forest around them had grown silent also, night birds and insect sounds had faded until only the slow deep breathing of Gor could be heard. His immense chest rose and fell, gradually faster. Suddenly he took one final, titanic deep breath and held it in puffed hairy cheeks. The muscles in his gigantic body and face tensed and rippled, and huge wet tears ran down from his eyes and into his great black shaggy beard.

Elizabeth tingled all over, all pain rapidly disappearing.

After only a few long silent, frozen moments, the giant relaxed, exhaled a great sigh, and opened his eyes. A big smile formed on his face. "GOR IS DONE," he announced.

Indeed, Elizabeth's arm and shoulder felt perfectly normal. More, she felt herself again. Johnny leapt/flew to join Elizabeth in Gor's hand, hugging her tightly for the first time since the rescue from Dark.

"Gor will take you to a cabin where you can both sleep," said Pru. "In the morning we will talk of your father, Johnny."

" _What about the threats to Goth Mountain?_ " Johnny pathed.

" _Do not worry yourself_ ," replied Pru. " _Baldor, Two Bears, and the Tribe are there_."

Gor heaved his great bulk up and began slowly walking, after perching Johnny and Elizabeth on one of his broad shoulders. From their perch the two humans measured their progress across the clearing to be as fast as humans might jog.

"Did giants help build the Goth cabin?" Elizabeth asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"OF COURSE," boomed Gor. "LITTLE HUMAN HOUSES ARE EASY. THIS ONE I'M TAKING YOU TO ONLY TOOK ONE DAY TO BUILD."

"A human house? For a human?" asked Johnny in surprise.

"WE DON'T OFTEN LET OUTSIDERS STAY HERE IN THIS LAND, BUT GUS IS A SPECIAL CASE."

"I don't remember anyone named Gus."

"FEN MET HIM AND HE ENDED UP HERE ONLY A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO. GUS WILL TELL YOU HIS STORY, I'M SURE."

"So Gus didn't know my father?"

"NO. BUT IN HIS CABIN HE IS KEEPING SOMETHING OF YOUR FATHER'S FOR YOU. A HUMAN THING. AND THE BODY OF MARK GOTH IS NEARBY AS WELL."

They were rapidly approaching lights at one edge of the clearing which the humans soon recognized to be windows of a small log cabin. When they reached it a door flung open and out stepped a thin, hairy little old man, wearing worn jeans and shirt but no shoes. His hair was a spectacular red tinged with gray.

"THIS IS THEM, GUS," announced Gor, lowering Johnny and Elizabeth to the ground in front of the old man. "JOHNNY AND ELIZABETH, MEET AUGUSTUS MCGREGOR."

"Happy to meet you," said the man, as he shook their hands vigorously, "if it's really you that I'm meeting."

"Why wouldn't it be?" asked Elizabeth.

"That pesky goat-man Fen has been introducing me to me all night. Are you sure you're who you think you are?"

Johnny smiled. "We are, as well you would know, you old faker!" he said. "Fess up!"

"Ye better fess up, ye varmint!" said a second, identical Augustus McGregor, as he stepped out of the cabin and confronted the first McGregor angrily. I've had enough of your cockamamie flimflam, you goat breath-filled old faker!"

"FESS UP," demanded the giant, glaring at the first little man.

"Alright, if you insist, I'm Fen," said the first Gus, grinning. Suddenly his form was indistinct and wavering, like a reflection on a rippling pond, before it re-solidified into a pointy eared, oldish looking little goat man with little goat horns on his forehead and shaggy goat legs and backside, as well as hooves instead of feet. He looked exactly like Ned, but for graying hair. "Hi Johnny," he said, as he leapt into Johnny's arms for a big hug.

"I'm Augustus McGregor, at your service, but call me Gus," said the remaining McGregor, as he shook the hands of both Johnny and Elizabeth. "I take it you know this hairy little troublemaker," he said, nodding towards Fen, who was being put back on the ground by Johnny.

"I do," replied Johnny. "We have some catching up to do, and I'd like to hear your story too; I've never heard of a human living in the Land."

"You'll have both my story and Fen's, but let's do it inside where I can fix us some tea. Then you'll be wanting to rest."

"I'LL BE HEADING HOME THEN, LITTLE FOLK," said Gor. "I'LL BE BACK IN THE MORNING WITH PRU AND A FEW OF THE FAIR FOLK THAT WOULD LIKE TO MEET YOU BOTH. SLEEP THEE WELL, HUMANS."

Gus led them into the cabin. With a wave of his hands the cabin was illuminated by a dull glow. "Unicorn gift, that," the old man commented. "No electricity here, you know."

The cabin reminded Johnny very much of Dooley's place. Walls were lined with tables and shelves cluttered under dried leaves, flowers, and mushrooms, odd colored rocks, animal bones, and old wasps-nests, feathers, notebooks, and other naturalist paraphernalia. It looked a lot like Dooley's home, though even Dooley had more furniture. On the floor were four mounds of straw covered with blankets. A small fireplace with a glowing fire helped create an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.

"It ain't the Ritz but it's better than sleeping on the ground," said Gus. "Make yourselves comfortable and I'll brew us some tea."

"No problems here with bugs or cold, I assume," said Johnny.

"You assume right, lad, thanks to unicorn magic," said Fen. "That there fire is eternal, and bugs aren't harmful here, and they don't set foot in this cabin anyway. But there's no TV or Internet either, and I haven't been to the outside world in three years. So I have some catching up on things to do tomorrow with you, if there's time.

"What are these things?" Elizabeth asked, pointing to what she had first thought were three thin books or pamphlets laying on one of the tables. With closer inspection she had noticed that they seemed to be made of solid metal.

"That's a good question, lass," Gus remarked, as he picked up one of the metallic tablets and handed it to her, along with a cup of tea.

She expected the metallic appearing item to be heavy, but it was light as a feather, even though it was a quarter-inch thick and eight-inches square, and seemed to be as solid as molded steel. Viewed directly it appeared to be covered with tiny, strange, unintelligible three-dimensional runes which disappeared when viewed at an angle. More strangely yet, the surface of the tablet felt cool and perfectly smooth to the touch.

"It's some sort of alien artifact, I figure," said Gus, "with writing put on its surface somehow."

"Can Pru or the others read it?" Johnny asked.

"Not a word of it," Fen admitted. "Some of us suspect that our ancestors made them, and then over the years forgot how to read them. We don't seem to have our own written language; Gus thinks the writing looks vaguely familiar to old Earth writing. They were found by Ned not far from the Cube only last week, buried just under the surface of the ground. They could have been there for thousands of years, though Pru is puzzled why they weren't found sooner if they were there that long. The corner of one of them was poking up out of the ground and looked like an odd stone to Ned. Everyone is supposed to stay away from the Cube though; Pru wasn't happy that Ned ventured so close to it."

"It's Babylonian or something, maybe," said Gus. "I've been trying to decipher them but I'm no expert in ancient languages. Too bad some of my old academic friends aren't here with me. Even if it's a brand new language I bet they'd come up with something. If I was on the outside I'd make some inquiries. No mail or email service here, though. The Land is too isolated for its own good, I think."

"Most of us don't have much contact with the outside world, and visa-versa," admitted Fen. "Say, how is my nephew Ned? We heard there's been more trouble in your world."

"Ned had a run in with an evil demon named Dark, but he's alright now," related Johnny. "My mom and White Dove patched him up."

The goat man's smile disappeared. "Dark? An evil wolf-man that lives off suffering and death?"

"Sounds like him."

"That's very bad news Johnny. Dark is as bad as they come. Our legends say that he's the mortal enemy of the People. On the other hand, you and your Mom returning is good news. Maybe things have a way of balancing out. But take care, Dark is a ruthless killer."

"We'll be careful, but we have your folk on our side, including Pru and Baldor."

Fen's expression remained grave. "Dark has killed our folk too, Johnny, including even unicorns."

"Even unicorns!" said Johnny, in shock. "But why would the People put up with that sort of thing?"

"You mean why wouldn't we have hunted down and killed Dark years ago? Don't you know the answer to that already?"

Johnny thought for a moment, and nodded his head. "Of course I do. It was a dumb question."

"You've been away a long time."

"I don't know," said Elizabeth.

"The 'thou shall not kill' rule is one of their strongest," explained Gus. "They're pretty much pacifists, all of them, though if pushed into a corner they'll defend themselves and their friends."

"You've learned a lot about the People," said Johnny. "I'm still curious about exactly how you came to live here."

As he continued to share herbal tea with his guests, McGregor told them that he had retired and moved to Florida four years earlier. He had gotten bored almost immediately, despite interesting experiences with abundant nifty reptiles and insects. Three years ago when he was in Mt. Rainier Park in Washington, while trying to track down a family of Sasquatch, he ran into Fen, who was in Mt. Rainier Park trying to track down a family of Sasquatch.

Fen was disguised as a forest ranger at the time. The two hit it off immediately, and Fen eventually sort of adopted Gus and took him home with him as the first human to live in the Land in several centuries. Wanderlust being a key element of Sasquatch psychology, the Big Foot family came home to the Land for a only few weeks before feeling the need to traipse off again. "Later I found out that a couple of hundred of the People are spread all over the world in the Sasquatch form. They _are_ the Sasquatch. Most visit here from time to time," Gus explained.

"But how did you get The People to agree to let you come here?" asked Johnny. "More to the point, how did you get a unicorn to bring you in here?"

Fen and Gus looked at each other glumly, but said nothing.

"You fooled them?" guessed Elizabeth.

"It was a miscalculation on my part," confessed Fen, shrugging. "I should have known better."

"But how?" asked Johnny.

"We can't tell," said Fen. "That's one of the things we promised."

"What else?"

"I get to stay here for the rest of my life," said Gus. "Pretty good deal, actually, more a reward than a punishment."

"And I have to stay with him, that's my punishment," added Fen. "I'm grounded, as you humans would say. I can't leave the Land as long as Gus remains here, unless they change their minds. But it's not such a big deal for me; humans are short lived."

"Especially if we don't get enough sleep," said Gus, grumpily.

"You're right," agreed Johnny. "It's been a very long day."

"I'm really very tired all of a sudden, Johnny," said Elizabeth, yawning.

"We all are," said Fen, "thanks to Gus's sleepy-time tea. Special blend; we have it every night."

They turned their attention to Gus. The old man had put away the washed teacups and was standing next to his makeshift bed, yawning deeply. With a sigh he collapsed onto the soft blanket covered hay mattress. He was snoring immediately. At the same time, the oil lamp went out, the fireplace fire dimmed, and gravity seemed to increase, especially for eyelids.

"Isn't that funny," Johnny mumbled. "Real sleepy time tea." But the others were already asleep. "Goo-night," Johnny managed, as he plopped down next to Elizabeth, meaning to at least kiss her on the cheek but blanking out before he could do so.

Johnny and Elizabeth slept peacefully, but had strange dreams in which unicorns, giants, goat men, and other strange beings spoke with them about many things and with each other, usually telepathically.

"I like them, for humans," said one voice.

"Irrelevant," said another. "We should withdraw from humans entirely. The humans are becoming too dangerous and arrogant."

"Which is exactly why we should remain in contact with them."

"And risk further contamination? Look at what they've done to Fen and Ned already! I say leave them to their own devices and they'll wipe themselves out soon. Within a few thousand years at most, if an asteroid or super volcano doesn't do the job first."

"What's a super volcano?" Johnny asked in his dream.

"The human listens!"

"In his sleep?"

"All the more remarkable. He has strong powers."

"He is too much like his father. He is dangerous."

"That's what I like about him."

"I withhold my judgment until the morrow."

"So should we all."

****

Johnny woke to the sound of birds singing and Fen Snoring. Gus was already up and cooking breakfast, using a small wood stove in the corner of the cabin. When he noticed Johnny watching him he handed him a plate piled high with eggs and with flapjacks smothered in raspberry jam, and pointed out a small table where they could all sit.

"Chow down, lad, it'll be a busy morning for the lot of us, I reckon."

Yawning and blinking, Elizabeth and Fen soon joined them at the table. The guests were surprised to have fresh orange juice to drink, but were too busy eating to ask for an explanation. In minutes everyone was stuffed to the gills.

"While I clear the table Johnny, I have something that Ned found with your father's body that has been passed on to me for safe keeping." He handed a small sealed envelope to Johnny that had his name on it. The envelope was beginning to yellow with age. Johnny opened it anxiously and read it aloud.

'Johnny: In case something happens to me, I am writing this to you. First of all, take care of your mother and the Tribe. You're the Goth now, along with your Uncle Mort. Second, stay away from the Cube. It's dangerous, but dangerous in a strange way, and if you read this my plan failed and I am wrong in thinking it could be controlled. My theory is that we can learn to control it by thought, if we keep trying, and have the appropriate talent. There are others in the other Cube worlds trying to do similar things. I've been communicating with them and today plan to visit and join them. We should be able to jointly control the Cube, and I should be able to return.

'If it doesn't work and I don't return, you'll get this letter. I have high confidence I will return, but if after a few days I don't, remove the dead me from near the Cube and bury him, and as the new Goth, with wisdom use the watch I leave you through Mort. Love, Dad.'

"All these years there's been a letter from my Dad?" Johnny asked Fen, dazed.

The little goat man shrugged. "Your mother had taken you away. It was always here, waiting for your return to Goth Mountain. We didn't think it would be so long a time."

"What does it all mean?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't understand it all. Exactly how is the Cube dangerous?"

Gus stood up from his chair at the table. "It will require more thought, that question will. Mark was a little unclear on purpose, perhaps to keep Johnny out of trouble. In the meantime let's get out of my cluttered little cabin. The Land beckons and I wager we'll soon be visited by Pru and some of the others."

Johnny and Elizabeth stepped out of the cabin and followed Gus along a stone path that led towards the nearby woods, but got no further than the first few steps. Then they could only stand gaping, overwhelmed by what they saw.

What had been in large measure hidden by darkness and their weariness the night before was now exposed in the brilliant splendor of a strange daylight. A few steps from the path on which they stood, a small brook of clear cool water bubbled by. As they watched, a large fish of some sort leapt out of the water. A beaver was swimming nearby, and a raccoon with its babies romped along the stony shore. Around the path and across the brook spread fresh, green, grassy meadowland, decorated in blue, orange, red, and gold by rampant patches of wild flowers. Deer and elk grazed the meadows, and calling birds perched and flew in great profusion. To either side of the meadow, forests of titanic trees towered.

A gentle breeze caressed their skin and tugged gently at their clothes, and brought a million odors of forest life to them: sweet and pungent, musty and musky. The cool morning air also carried a chorus of life sounds to their ears: chirping, croaking, chattering, grunting, cooing, whistles, and other songs of life.

It was all illuminated by strange light. Like the dim lighting of the previous night, the light of day, if that's what it was, was also diffuse; it seemed to come from the entire light blue sky rather than from a glowing sphere, as the Sun itself was nowhere to be seen. How could it be so bright here with no Sun? It was as if the light of the Sun was being scattered as it passed through a translucent covering of some sort, though the sky was clear blue; a notion that Johnny dismissed at once, as he realized the engineering demands of such a huge structure. The Land appeared to be at least several miles across, and yet there was no sign of any of the supporting structures that should have been needed for any sort of gigantic roof.

As they looked closer at the countryside, they realized that this was nature as they had never seen it before, even on Goth Mountain. Everything was spectacular in terms of size and profusion, but even more amazing it seemed to also be utterly perfect. Every nearby blade of grass was green and without defect, every flower was without wilt or fade, every tree leaf was without insect chewed edges, and without dead or broken branches. Even the stone path they stood on was not encroached upon by any growth trying to reclaim it. It was as if everything in the Land had its established properties that were somehow controlled.

"A bit overwhelming is it?" asked McGregor, who had been standing quietly studying the couple, as they studied their surroundings.

"It's incredible!" answered Elizabeth.

"It's the product of several thousands of years of care," said a familiar voice that hinted of chimes ringing in the wind. Emerging from a stand of giant trees Pru the unicorn pranced, followed by Grog the giant, and several other equally fantastic beings.

"I am Malgandro," spoke the griffin standing next to Pru. Its massive lion body rippled with muscle, its huge eagle wings flexed as though straining to fly, and its beaked eagle's head stared at the humans with enormous, all seeing eyes.

"I am Thela, humans," said a soft, sexy female voice, as another form seemed to step right out of the trunk of a nearby tree. This one appeared to be very human, and so startling in her nude beauty that Johnny could do nothing but stare goggle-eyed at her with his jaw hanging open. Thela smiled and stared back at Johnny openly.

As she stepped further away from the tree, and the two huge white feathery wings attached to her back became visible. As startling as that was, the human beauty of her naked form monopolized Johnny's attention, until Elizabeth elbowed him firmly in the ribs.

"I am Sheera," said another female voice, this one definitely and captivatingly nude and human from the navel up, and horse from the waist down. Both parts of the centaur sported brilliant red hair.

"I suddenly feel overdressed," remarked Elizabeth.

"Don't let it trouble you," remarked another member of the party, a tall, handsome, silver haired man with impossibly large, piercing blue eyes, white porcelain skin, long silver hair, and large pointy ears. He was covered from neck to just above his sandal-clad feet by a gracefully flowing, perfect white robe trimmed in gold. He was an elf, the humans immediately realized. "I am called Elnor," he announced.

"And we are Nera and Tigra," stated the final two members of the group. Nera was a female Sasquatch, while Tigra was a male. Nera stood a full seven feet tall but Tigra was a head taller. Johnny remembered meeting them both when he was a small boy. Many of the People preferred to secretively live in forests as Sasquatch, while those that stayed in the Land tended to adopt outlandish forms that would receive too much attention in the outside world.

"We are the current membership of the High Council of the Land, Johnny Goth," said Pru. "As you are acting as the new Goth, we needed to meet with you and decide if we will renew through you our covenant."

"You mean you're going to look me over and decide if I'm Goth Mountain material?"

"In part, but not entirely," said Elnor. "The outside world is changing. We have to decide if we will continue to have any contact with it at all. Part of that decision involves you. We would know your thoughts on this matter, and the thoughts of Elizabeth, of course."

"You mean you might just hide here forever without ever visiting the outside?" asked Elizabeth.

"In essence," said Pru. "But not forever, not even by our reckoning."

"Meaning of course that you are immortal and we are not," said Johnny.

"Unicorns are immortal compared to the rest of us," said Malgandro, "who are merely very long of life compared to you humans. We would prefer to remain hidden, from not only your kind but from some others that inhabit your world and this part of this galaxy. Yet, already humans draw unwanted attention to the orb in which we abide."

"Within a few more of your generations your science may exceed our ability to hide ourselves," said Pru. "If we withdraw, perhaps your kind and any others will not know to look for us and not find us for a longer time. Or perhaps you humans will become extinct and the danger to us will pass."

"Is danger to yourselves all that you care about?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't see how you can stand to live in here away from the whole rest of the universe, no matter how nice it is here."

"The Land has all that we need," stated Elnor.

"Does it really?" asked Johnny. "You weren't always in your current forms, were you? Where did you get the ideas for your current forms?"

"From creatures in the outside world, right?" Elizabeth answered for them.

"The forms please us," said Sheera. "The Sasquatch is our most traditional form, but when we are young we choose what we want to be. Except for unicorns, of course; unicorns are eternally unicorns."

"And everything else here? The plants and animals are all reflections of the outside world too, aren't they, modified to fit your idea of perfection?"

"ARE YOU MAKING A POINT LITTLE LADY?" asked Grog impatiently.

"The point is, whether you like it or not you appear to be highly dependent on the outside world for the ideas you use here," explained Elizabeth.

"We see your point," said Elnor.

"It's an age-old problem for us as well as for you," said Johnny. "We humans like to mold ourselves and our environment to be the way we think we like them, but we still can't escape being part of the larger world. Not even you can do that totally, despite all of your powers.

"But that also means that you can't escape responsibilities. Nobody can, not even you. There is no free ride. I think you would be irresponsible to yourselves and to the rest of us who live on Earth if you withdraw completely from the outside world."

"And then there is the Cube," added Elizabeth. "Your help is needed to guard it. If you don't, there could be consequences for you as well as for us."

"I have already decided," said Thela, smiling, her eyes on Johnny. "I agree."

"And I," said Malgandro.

"And I also," said Elnor and the Sasquatch couple.

"Very well," said Sheera. "With my assent it is unanimous, as Pru and Grog have already made their views known."

"We will continue our relationship with the Tribe and the Goths," said Pru to the humans.

"And we agree to continue it also," said Johnny.

Grog laughed heartily.

"We can move on to other business now, as our human friends are anxious to carry out their responsibilities in their world," said Pru. "At another time, perhaps they can avail themselves a longer visit."

"So we would hope," said Thela, winking at Johnny.

"What can you tell me of my father and the Cube?" asked Johnny.

"Your father, like so many of you short-lived folk, was in a hurry to solve the mysteries of what he called the Cube," said Malgandro. "But he apparently failed."

"Where is his body?" asked Johnny quietly.

"The body of Mark Goth is nearby," said Pru. "Come."

The entire group followed Pru around the side of the cabin and into a small glen full of incredible wild flowers. A cube shaped boulder the size of a desk sat amidst purple hued orchids if incomparable beauty. Johnny's father's name was carved deeply into the smooth face of the stone.

"Mark Goth's body lies beneath this stone," said Thela. "He was a handsome human. He looked much like you."

"Yet Mark Goth lives," stated Pru enigmatically.

Johnny took out his gold watch and showed it to everyone. Several gasped when they saw it, for his father's smiling image was still on it, next to his own. "This watch is part of you, Pru. Doesn't this mean that you detect him alive somewhere?"

"Your father's complete status is unclear. I sense that he is gone, but not that he is dead. Beyond that I know only that the Cube can change those who are near it."

"Maybe the Cube changed him so you couldn't sense him anymore, then killed him," reasoned Johnny.

"No," replied the unicorn. "Your logic is good but this is not the case. The man buried here is Mark Goth, yet he is not your father."

"Then the body must be that of his doppelganger," reasoned Elizabeth.

"A doppelganger here? In our world?" asked Johnny, though once stated by Elizabeth the proposition seemed obvious. "I agree."

"And if that is the case, your real father might be still alive," added Elizabeth. "He might have gone to wherever the body buried here came from. And your uncle too. In both cases a body was found. Both bodies were perhaps doppelgangers."

"That's what concerns me," confessed Johnny. "Bodies were found. Why? Why dead bodies and not live doppelgangers? Might that suggest that Dad and Mort have also been killed?"

Elizabeth hugged Johnny and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't lose hope. In his letter your father says he planned to visit another world and return. He studied the Cube longer than you have, and his note suggests that he thought he knew what he was doing. Besides, both watches still show images of those missing."

"Both watches?" exclaimed Johnny. "You've seen Uncle Mort's watch?"

"Yes. It was with the Mort doppelganger body in the cabin. I gave it to Two Bears."

"He no longer has it," added Pru.

"He doesn't?" exclaimed Johnny. "Then where is it?"

"I cannot tell you where, but I can tell you who," said Pru. "After all, each watch is a small part of me. Mort's watch is now carried by Small Bear."

****

CHAPTER 25

SWITCHED

"Those sons-a-bitches!" swore Barns. "Four of my squad cars plus all the logging machinery from dozers to chain saws, all with screwed up fuel systems including carburetors. Not even the diesel engines work well enough to use, and they burn about anything."

"So what?" said Skunk. "You can still serve the damn warrant or whatever and take over the place!"

"Idiot! The logging needs to start immediately thereafter to seal it!" hissed Fenster. "Once commercial logging is started and we have labor going on in there we'll be politically unstoppable. If we just go in there with cops shooting those poor helpless damn Indians and not protecting law-abiding loggers there will be a publicity disaster. The damn loggers refuse to move without their damn equipment. Also, the media smells a story and is beginning to flock in, so we still need to do this as soon as we can, so we have to regroup first."

"The screwed up engines ain't the half of it," said Barns. "You ever hear of Jake Morgan and Billy Wilson?"

"Two old busybodies from town," said Fenster. "Why?"

"Dooley Simple and those two old men are at the Goth place now, and they apparently belong to something called 'Artistic License' that is made up of thousands of loony long-haired misfit tree-hugging artists. There are a couple hundred of them outside the Goth place already, outnumbering both loggers and cops, carrying signs and chaining themselves to everything in sight, whittling artsy stuff from sticks with pocket knives and covering stuff with slogans and flowers and so forth as they sing protest songs. Tree huggers the lot of them. Lots of reporters too of course. We're already national fucking news! This is already a hundred times worse than that stupid story last year about those poor reservation Indians getting educated.

"There are also dozens of armed Indians inside the Goth's fence, and that's only the ones we've seen because they wanted us to see them." He turned to face the forth party to their conversation. "You and Dark were supposed to soften things up inside. What ever happened to that?"

"You wouldn't be anywhere without my help and you know it," replied Small Bear calmly. "Dark is pure evil and he can't be controlled. You don't understand him."

"Then there's Johnny Goth," said Barns. "What do you plan for him, Small Bear? Are you going to take up his challenge?"

Small Bear smiled, his dark eyes flashing. "Not alone and not unprepared. There is someone I need to speak with first."

They were standing near an area of thick brush. Small Bear suddenly turned towards it and walked to its edge. "Come out, Soul Eater. We need to plan our revenge together."

From out of the bushes stepped Dark, in human form. "If you have anything interesting to say, say it now. So far you have all only wasted my time."

"What are you doing here anyway, Dark?" said Skunk. "Why ain't you in there hunting down Indians and Goths?"

"Shut him up or I'll kill him here and now," Dark told Bill Fenster.

"Forgive them Soul Eater, they are ignorant white-men and don't understand what we face," said Small Bear. "Also, they don't understand you."

Dark laughed as he turned to regard Small Bear. "And you do?"

"Better than they do. They seek money and power, but they have no idea what true power is. You ARE power, eater of life. I too seek power, though my needs are very, very small compared to yours, and I have knowledge that even the Shaman and the Goths lack."

Dark smiled. "So you say! Perhaps then we have something to talk about after all." He turned his red eyes on Fenster. "There are some supplies I need first."

"And there are some things that I need to fetch also," added Small Bear.

"In the meantime I'll get more logging equipment," said Fenster. "I have a new partner from California with some influence in the logging business."

****

"What exactly do you expect us to see?" asked Elizabeth. She stood with Johnny staring into the Cube. What they saw was a small patch of path that looked almost exactly like the path on which they stood.

"I don't know," replied Johnny, "but this thing took my father away somehow and might be able to bring him back. His letter suggests that he might be still alive in a different world, and needs my help to come back."

"How?" Elizabeth asked. I know as much about it as you do now, and I don't have the foggiest idea how that thing works. But I do know it took both your father and your uncle and I don't want it to take you."

"I have to try to help Dad and Mort."

"Yes Johnny, but not today. Your Mom and the Tribe need you now. Dark and the others are still out there somewhere."

Johnny's thoughts were swirling. Elizabeth was right, of course. He had waited this long to seek his father, surely he could wait a few more days.

For a few moments, Johnny wasn't paying attention to the Cube or anything else. He paced about thinking of what he should be doing next, while not looking at anything in particular. Elizabeth in turn watched Johnny.

When he heard Elizabeth scream he turned to see her already being pulled into the Cube. Before he could react she was thrown roughly out of the Cube and into his arms.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" he asked her anxiously, even as he noticed subtle changes in her appearance. Was she wearing different clothes? Was her hair suddenly longer?

Elizabeth looked at Johnny and screamed in terror.

****

CHAPTER 26

LOST

Elizabeth found herself laying at the foot of the Cube, being helped up by an attractive young girl of perhaps twelve that she had never seen before.

"Are you all right, Miss Winters?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Where's Johnny and who are you?"

"Be careful," said a familiar voice. "She has been changed."

Elizabeth recognized the voice and turned fearfully to face Small Bear. Instead of a Tribe police uniform he was dressed in Indian homespun clothing and a feathered headdress, but it was certainly him.

"Johnny!" she screamed, while backing away from Small Bear, but Johnny was still nowhere to be seen.

"It's alright, Miss Winters," comforted the girl.

"That's Small Bear!" Elizabeth said. "I don't know what you did with Johnny, but you won't get away with it."

"You don't understand," said the girl. "You don't have to be afraid of anyone here, including Small Bear."

"Miss Winters, look into the Cube," instructed Small Bear.

She looked into the Cube cautiously, while still keeping an eye on Small Bear, and was astonished to see both herself and Johnny Goth inside! They weren't looking back at her, but were facing each other and talking, with her other self obviously frightened and Johnny also upset. Apparently sound could not penetrate the Cube, as their voices could not be heard at all. But the Johnny she saw in the Cube was dressed like her Johnny and was obviously him, and the Elizabeth in the Cube was dressed different than she was.

Things fell into place. Obviously she was now in another world, looking back at her own world! She had been switched with her doppelganger! She was in another universe!

"You aren't trying to kill me?" she asked Small Bear.

"Of course not," said the Girl. "He's the Tribe Apprentice Shaman. Do you understand what happened?"

"Yes, I get it now," said Elizabeth. "I've been switched with my doppelganger and I'm in another world. And who are you?"

"Were you really switched so quickly?" said the girl, who seemed distraught. "I had never seen it happen; I didn't realize it would be so quick. I'm Laura Goth, Johnny's younger sister and your student. Well, I was recently a student of someone just like you, that is."

Elizabeth internalized this startling information without even blinking. Before she could reply the Johnny in the Cube was suddenly looking at her and their eyes met. Her doppelganger was soon running away from him and out of sight but Johnny didn't even seem to notice. Elizabeth and Johnny ran to each other and pressed against the impenetrable Cube, lips appearing to touch but remaining universes apart.

"Apparently you and Johnny are rather close friends, in your world," remarked Small Bear.

"Wow!" said Laura.

"How do I get back?" asked Elizabeth, without turning away from her Johnny.

"We don't know," said Small Bear.

Elizabeth sunk to her knees as realization finally hit her hard, as she still pressed hopelessly against the cold, unyielding Cube. A universe away, her Johnny pounded his fists against the Cube and shouted curses futilely, then sank down to his knees also so that he could again be closer to her.

Laura knelt next to Elizabeth and held her hand. "It's all my fault," she told her. "We shouldn't have been so close to the Cube. We were just supposed to watch, and find out if someone wanted to voluntarily switch with Miss Winters. I didn't realize it would be so quick and violent."

Nor did her Johnny know how she could get back; she could read the despair in his eyes. He had wanted to get back his father, and now he had lost her also.

Suddenly the Cube began to shimmer like an old-fashioned TV snowing up. Elizabeth saw Johnny reach again for her hopelessly; then he was gone.

"Everyone get back," shouted Small Bear urgently.

Elizabeth tried to stay, pressed against the Cube, but Laura and Small Bear pulled her to her feet and forced her several meters away, despite her resistance.

"As you have just seen, it's dangerous to be too near the Cube, especially when it changes," explained Small Bear. "You never know whose doppelganger might be standing on the other side."

"Is it less dangerous than standing next to a traitor?" she asked, shaking out of Small Bear's grasp and eying him warily.

"You are in a different world now, Miss Winters. I am a different Small Bear than the man in your world, and I am no traitor."

They were looking back at the Cube, which had stopped shimmering and was now totally black.

"Why is it all black? What does it mean?" asked Laura.

"It shows a different world now," stated Small Bear.

"In that world, the Cube is probably fully buried in the rock of the mountain," reasoned Elizabeth.

"Yes," agreed Small Bear. "I have seen this before. Yours is the most likely explanation."

"When will it change back to my world?" asked Elizabeth fearfully.

"Unknown," said Small Bear. "Perhaps never. There seem to be hundreds of other worlds, perhaps more. Since we began our studies three weeks ago we have witnessed many worlds, but we have found no way of clearly distinguishing them. Too many are nearly identical such that we do not know if we have seen any of them more than once. But all folks we have communicated with in the Cube about the knowledge of such things agree that exchange of the same person between worlds is the only way to penetrate the Cube and pass between worlds."

All this was overwhelming to Elizabeth. She again nearly fell to her knees, but Laura grasped her arms and steadied her. Mark and Mort had failed to get back to their world, despite their powers and knowledge. But she would do it; she had to. "Is this the first time you've had an exchange of doppelgangers yourself?"

Laura and Small Bear looked at each other awkwardly. "Not exactly," admitted Small Bear. You are our fourth Elizabeth Winters this week. We are trying, but we have not retrieved our own Elizabeth yet."

****

Johnny Goth ran down the Mountain swiftly, catching up with the doppelganger Elizabeth Winters half way to the Great Tree. Out of breath, she stopped running without argument.

"I won't hurt you," said Johnny. "I want you to help me get my own Elizabeth back."

Elizabeth laughed. "Fat chance, Johnny. I take it that you two were close in this universe, but you can forget getting her back. This is my fifth world now, and they're all different."

"Your fifth?"

"And I'm a relative novice. I've heard of an Elizabeth that has been to more than a dozen worlds."

"A dozen?"

"So many that she lost count, but certainly more than a dozen, and she replaced a different Elizabeth each time, most of them also trying to get back home, or as in my case, to escape home."

"Escape? You left your original world on purpose?"

"Certainly. It was so lousy I figured I had nothing to lose."

"What could be so bad that you'd want to leave your whole world behind?"

"Principally you, Johnny Goth. In my original world you're a sick sadistic bastard."

"Me? I am?"

"Don't look so surprised. Hopefully you're not so bad in this world. Not a bastard like my first Johnny Goth, anyway. And what about me? In this universe do I have money?"

"You're a school teacher without much money."

"Shit! Same-old same-old." She turned and started walking down the mountain again.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Away from here. Maybe I can get the National Enquirer or someone to buy my story, assuming you have newspapers here. With some cash maybe I can get my life back on track."

"I don't think I can let you do that."

She stopped walking and turned to face him with a frown. "Maybe there's some bastard in you after all?"

"This place is under siege and attack, Elizabeth. There have been serious attempts on my Elizabeth's life. Staying here with us may be your only chance to live."

"Shit," she remarked. She walked back to rejoin Johnny. "This gets better and better."

Johnny marveled at how much this woman was both the same and different from his own Elizabeth. How she talked and looked was somewhat Elizabeth-like, but she clearly wasn't his Elizabeth. "Besides, I want my own Elizabeth back, and I expect you to help me get her."

****

CHAPTER 27

REVELATIONS

Elizabeth ate another delicious oatmeal cookie. "So you have no problems with old man Fenster or Skunk or Dark or Barns?"

"None of that rings a bell, Elizabeth," said Mark Goth. "Fenster and Barns are names of people in town, but we have no problems with them or anyone else."

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder. She was sitting at the Goth cabin's dining-room table, sharing afternoon milk and cookies with Mark, Ann, Mort, Laura, and Johnny Goth, along with Two Bears and Small Bear. All of them were strangers to her, though she knew most of them in her own universe.

"And what of the People?"

"What people do you mean?" asked Johnny.

"Pru? Baldor? Grog? Ned? Fen? What about Thela or Sheera? You men would surely remember them!"

"Nope, never heard of any of them," said Mark.

"They are a race of super beings in my universe."

Johnny shrugged, Mark shook his head. "We know of nobody like that," said Two Bears.

What about humans with powers?" she asked. "Can any of you fly?"

"Sure," said Johnny, as his body rose several feet to float next to the table. "But it's no big deal; millions of people can do it."

"Goths have more abilities than most, but nearly all humans have some measure of psychic powers, Elizabeth," said Mark. "That's common knowledge."

"Not in my world. Only a handful of people have any powers at all."

"Wow!" said Laura. "I can't imagine that!"

"Shaman powers are much more rare," said Two Bears, "and usually found in native Americans and others that live close to nature. Shaman magic leans towards relating to natural powers in other living and non-living things aside from ourselves. We think that the Cube has helped us enhance our natural psychic powers."

"I never heard of a universe without world-wide psychic powers!" said Mort. "Why, it ain't natural!"

"Over the last few weeks we have communicated with people of dozens of other worlds," said Mark Goth. "Psychic powers seem to be common to all of them, and I've never seen any of them write of someone called the People."

"Write?"

"Yes, of course," said Ann. "Show her, Laura."

Laura disappeared into the back bedroom for a few moments before returning with a three-foot square marker-board and a camera. "We write messages on this and record messages and replies with a camera."

"Except for the exchange of doppelgangers nothing seems to penetrate the Cube except visual spectrum electromagnetic energy," explained Johnny. "Not even telepathic communications penetrate. Only visual communications approaches function, and we're getting better at that. We're thinking now of somehow using laptop computers to manage some sort of high speed laser communications."

"What about powerful evil creatures like Dark? Do you have those in this world?"

"I never heard of beings called 'dark' but we do have plenty of evil creatures and forces in our universe," said Ann, "including some with incredible powers. Is that what you were fleeing when you came here?"

"I wasn't fleeing my universe. I'm not here on purpose. I got pulled into the Cube against my will."

"Oh my," said Ann. "That's horrible. The Elizabeth you switched with wasn't happy with this universe and wanted to switch again, of course, though I don't know if your particular universe will suit her."

"Can you help me get back to my own world?"  
None spoke, but they looked at each other, their expressions grim.

"I can't communicate telepathically, but I don't like your facial expressions."

"Sorry for the telepathy, Elizabeth," said Johnny. "We've been mostly communicating through talking for your sake, but your question jarred us a bit."

"We'll try to help you, of course," said Mark. "But we've had indications of several folks trying to get back to where they came from, but no solid indications that any of them have ever been able to do so. Folks can move from one world to another, but they can't switch back again right after they have switched. The Cube repels the recently switched, as a matter of fact. Also, they have trouble identifying the correct world, since many are nearly identical. People can only switch with their doppelganger, dead or alive, but there may be an infinite number of them corresponding to an infinite number of universes. Returning to your own specific world is highly problematic, I'm afraid. We haven't seen any, but we have been told that multiple dead bodies are being used to stimulate switching, but even if you switch universes a thousand times, the odds against returning to your home world are likely to be extremely small; perhaps approaching zero."

"My Johnny wants to find his father Mark and his Uncle Mort, who earlier disappeared into the Cube. That's why we were at the Cube when I was transported here."

"So three of you are lost from one universe?" lamented Ann.

"Down but not out," said Elizabeth. "I got here somehow, and I have to believe there's a way to get back."

"You're really determined to get back, aren't you?" asked Johnny.

Elizabeth smiled. "Damn right."

****

CHAPTER 28

TREE TALKER

"My Elizabeth was right," lamented Johnny. "She was trying to talk me away from the Cube when it pulled her in."

Johnny, Ann, Two Bears, the Elizabeth doppelganger, Black Knife, and Mary sat around the dining table in the Goth cabin, pondering their next moves, while outside Dooley entertained and distracted his father, Jake, and Billy, aided by Ned. Angela Welborne was out of sight and out of mind.

"She made the rookie mistake of standing near the Cube, or that wouldn't have happened," said the new Elizabeth. "But that's ancient history already," she quickly added, noting the negative facial expressions of the others.

"It seems obvious only now that the Cube forcefully switches someone with their doppelganger when it detects two like-entities near it," said Ann. "Before this we didn't know that's how it worked. We must find a way to reverse the process. If we do locate our own Elizabeth, are you willing to be switched with her again?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Sure, I guess so. That universe was a dull place to be, but at least it was safe compared to here."

"Then let's go back to the Cube now and work on it!" said Johnny, rising from his chair.

"What about Dark and the others?" objected Mary. "Our Elizabeth was right about the need for your help with other issues, Johnny."

"Baldor roams our forests on watch for Dark, and any other intruders," said Black Knife. "That should keep us safe internally while most of the rest of us oppose the loggers at the outer fence."

"Maybe not," added Johnny. "I've invited Small Bear to the Mountain for a showdown with me. I'm sure that he'll show up here or at the Source, Baldor or no Baldor. He's already shown that he can skillfully evade detection. Dark can elude us also."

"Wait a minute," interrupted the Elizabeth Doppelganger. "I know I'm a stranger here, but I'd like to understand what's happening. I gather that Small Bear is a baddie here in this world, but who are Baldor and Dark? Are they weirdoes like that hairy Ned fellow?"

"Ned and Baldor are of the People and our friends," explained Johnny. "Ned is a shape shifter and Baldor is a unicorn. Dark is an evil monster. He assumes human or half-wolf form."

Elizabeth threw up her hands in surrender. "Never mind. I'm missing a basic vocabulary here. What you just said means almost nothing to me."

"Interesting," said Johnny. "But we need to get back to immediate business."

"Small Bear should not be underestimated," resumed Two Bears. His tone was level and measured, but Johnny could sense pain behind them whenever the big man thought or spoke of his nephew. "He has Mort's watch. Perhaps it enhances his powers, but he would not elude me a second time. I would rather he never returned to the Tribe at all. I know how it must end if he does, even though he is my kin."

Ann broke the awkward silence that followed. "Is there some Tribe law or tradition that applies to what Small Bear has done?"

The big shaman sighed deeply. "No. There have been troubled Tribe members before, but nothing like this. Rarely there have been fights, theft of minor things, disrespect, or other problems. Recently there have been drugs and alcohol abuse, though very limited. We are humans, with all weaknesses that come with being human, but we are a small, closed society with deep feelings for each other. Never in Tribal memory has there been outright betrayal of the Tribe or murder."

"So you'd like to see Small Bear and his friends simply disappear and never come back," said Ann.

"Yes, perhaps that would be best," the big man agreed, with a sigh. "But life hardly ever works that way, does it? Life is immutably complex and beyond the control of even the Shaman and the Goth. Small Bear has shown that there is hate burning deep within him, a hate that has made him evil. He will be back. He defines himself by his hate, and defines his hate by us and this place. There are hateful things he started here that he will want to finish."

"Such as killing you?" asked Johnny. He hadn't even thought of that before, he had been so focused on Elizabeth's situation.

"At some point. But he wouldn't have the element of surprise with me next time, and he knows it. I think he'll go after you first, White Wolf, in the hopes of first gaining your powers."

"Gaining my powers? Does that make any sense?"

Two Bears shrugged his enormous shoulders. "With Mort's watch perhaps he feels stronger. He might reason that with two watches he'll be stronger still. Strong enough to more confidently take me on. He'll figure that when he adds my knife to the watches and has free access to the Source, he'll be all-powerful."

"But it doesn't work that way. The powers are in ourselves, for the most part."

Two Bears nodded. "Yes, for the most part. A watch or knife can provide an emergency boost of energy in a pinch, but their greatest use is to allow a person's own powers to flow more freely. With ten watches or with a whole unicorn at your side the effect wouldn't work any better than it does with a single watch. Also, the power of the living forest can be bent to a shaman's will. Again, it is something within the shaman that allows this, though the ability is strengthened by the Source and liberated by a watch or knife."

"For the record," interrupted the doppelganger Elizabeth, "this watch, knife and unicorn business also makes no sense to me at all."

"Duly noted," said Ann. "But Small Bear doesn't know that the effect isn't additive, so I agree with this logic. But maybe he'd want to get the knife of Two Bears first, and then go after Johnny. The knife is also a weapon."

"Perhaps," said Two Bears. "But that would be a mistake. I will detect him and defeat him if he comes for me. Of that I am very confident."

"Then you should go with Johnny and Elizabeth to the Cube," said Ann.

"No," said Johnny. "I want Two Bears with you, Mom, in case Dark or Small Bear show up here, and also to help you stop the loggers. He can deny that the papers Small Bear signed are legal, and he can use his shaman powers if he has to."

"I have reached the same conclusion, White Wolf," agreed Two Bears. "But I will ask Ned to go with you. In addition to being formidable fighter in some of his forms, he found the doppelganger bodies of your father and uncle and may know something else useful. When near the One Tree he can also communicate with those in the Land. And I will also send my apprentice shaman to be with you."

Everyone else around the table looked at each other in surprise. "Your apprentice shaman? Who is that?" asked Mary White Dove, at last.

****

"Me? You want me to be a shaman?" asked Dooley, goggle eyed. He and his father had been invited to join the others in the Cabin, where Two Bears stated that he had selected Dooley Simple to be his official apprentice. Both father and son were stunned.

"It's a huge honor," said Ann. "No white person has ever been asked, not even a Goth has ever been asked."

"Now wait just a minute," objected Fred Simple. "It sounds to me like you'd just be making a target of my Dooley, maybe to save your own skins. Dooley a shaman? That's absurd!"

"Being a shaman isn't a matter of race," said Two Bears. "Dooley has more raw natural shaman talent than anyone I've ever known, myself included. Even without a watch or knife, he has shown powerful shaman talent."

"Talent?" huffed Fred. "Talent doing what?"

"Being part of the living world," replied Two Bears. "He has learned much already, mostly on his own."

Simple opened his mouth to reply to the big shaman but stopped himself and turned to Dooley. "Son, Two Bears and I will go out and talk together alone for a minute about this, OK?"

"Sure Pop," said Dooley, smiling.

The diminutive Professor led the cooperative giant shaman outside, closed the door, and walked several meters from the cabin and out of hearing range of Jake Morgan and Billy Wilson before again speaking. "For being a good friend to Dooley all these years I am very thankful to you, Two Bears. I was apprehensive at first, but you have been very kind and giving with him; the whole Tribe has."

"He has given back to us ten-fold anything that we have given him. He is a remarkable man."

Simple shook his head. "He is indeed a wonderful person. Everyone that knows him loves him. But let's be honest; he has certain limitations."

Two Bears smiled. "Perhaps you have noticed the trees along the driveway that have been shaped. Dooley did that. Just some art work for Mort, said Dooley. It is a skill that only one shaman in ten has, given extensive training. Dooley started doing it as a young child without any training at all. His potential is astonishing. That is what Johnny and I both sensed years ago, even when they were children. Dooley sensed kindred talent in Johnny and in other Goths and the Tribe. We were drawn to each other. Johnny told me of this, many years ago, and I have since found it to be true. It was our great honor to make your son one of the Tribe. He uses his powers only for good, for as you have said, above all, he is a wonderful person."

Simple shook his head. "You're talking nonsense."

"He has twice eluded Dark successfully, using shaman powers. You saw one example of that for yourself, Mr. Simple. Dark is what you would perhaps call an evil demon. He is immortal and has killed countless people. Dooley bested him twice, using his own special powers."

Doc Simple nodded his head slowly. "It would explain some confusing things that have happened, but I've spent my entire adult life debunking such notions."

"Yes, I've read your book. Ironic that you would spend your life traveling the country investigating strangers, when your own son is so gifted in terms of what you seek."

"I've even seen a man fly and some other strange things here. But it's all some kind of flim-flam, it has to be."

"Is it? Look at your legs, Professor Simple."

Simple looked down and saw it at about the same time he felt it, something sinuous wrapped softly around both of his legs. For a terrifying moment he thought it was snakes or some other horror, but it was only leafy vines, which must have gotten twisted around his feet as he walked into the forest. But even as he watched them they climbed higher, twisting up his legs very snake-like indeed. He tried to jerk his feet away but only lost his balance. He would have fallen, but a young tree bent down towards him, and pushed him upright again. "It's a trick," he muttered.

"Call it whatever you like, but it's real, and Dooley is capable of doing such things also."

The vines slipped higher, wrapping around his waist as the bent sapling straightened up, lifting Simple three feet off the ground.

"If it is real, this is my big break. This place is full of mysteries ready to be exposed. The academic world will go ape-shit!

"Is that what you want for your son? Do you want him studied by your universities and your government like some freak?"

The tree bent down, placing Simple gently on the ground, and the vines rapidly withdrew. Simple swayed, unsteady on his feet. "Of course not," he managed to state emphatically. "Those bastards better keep their mitts off my Dooley."

Smiling, Two Bears placed his own giant hand on the smaller man's shoulder to steady him. "I am sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to upset you. We offer a unique opportunity, for you as well as your son."

"But wait a minute! Even if all of that is so, exactly what would his responsibilities be? What does the job pay? And what are the hours?"

"Very good questions," admitted an amused Two Bears. "As a father you speak well for your son. In white-man terms, he'd go from part time to full time. It's a lifetime appointment. He would spend more time with us but he could still visit his friends in town. Benefits would include a home with the Tribe for the rest of his life. He would be responsible for learning more shaman lore and helping the Tribe and Goths survive and keep their secrets."

"OK," sighed Simple. "If that's what he wants I'll go along with it. For Dooley."

"Including keeping our secrets?"

His pudgy body sagged as he nodded his head sadly. "Yes. The whole Megillah. And I'm a man of my word, one hundred percent."

The two smiling men shook hands.

They returned to the cabin and Two Bears explained to Dooley what his duties would be as Apprentice Shaman.

"And the forest?" asked Dooley.

"You show true understanding," said Two Bears. "The forest in particular will be your responsibility. Helping the forest thrive and protecting it will be your number one job, Dooley, yours and Johnny's."

Johnny, grinning, gave Dooley a big hug. "Johnny and Dooley, partners again!"

"That sounds good," said Dooley, but his gap-toothed smile abruptly disappeared. "I don't think I can do it though," he said, so softly that the others barely heard him.

"Why not?" asked Johnny, in astonishment.

"I have my Pop to take care of. He's going to make a house for us both."

"But I want your father to live here with you too," explained Two Bears. "He can help us build a house that is both yours and his. But he also has to become a member of the Tribe."

"Meaning exactly what?" asked Doc Simple, his suspicions again aroused.

"Chiefly you would have to take loyalty and secrecy vows," explained Ann. "The Goths and tribe members all do it."

"When I let you come with us to heal Dooley, I was already anticipating that you would become a Tribe member," said Johnny. "I was assuming you would want to. Perhaps I have again assumed too much. But consider also that joining the Tribe is a two-way thing. The Tribe also pledges itself to each of its members. You'd never have to worry about yourself or Dooley being alone or being in need. It's like joining a big extended family. Everyone shares and everyone pitches in."

"But what about my research?" asked Simple. "Research is my life. I wouldn't be able to publish any findings to the academic community. I assume that is what you mean by secrecy."

"Yes and no," said Two Bears. "Your research opportunities will expand beyond your wildest dreams. You will gain access to real things that you thought were only folk tales. You have seen only a very few things to this point; less than the tip of an iceberg, your people would say."

Simple's head was spinning. He had seen people fly and heal and cause plants to move. What more was there? "But I couldn't tell anyone about it?"

"Probably not in your lifetime," admitted Two Bears. "But at some point we will not be able to hide from the outside world any longer. At that point your research will become world famous, and very necessary to preserving what we have well into the future."

"He's right," said Ann. "Your research when it is finally made public will be critical to achieving public understanding and acceptance, and preventing the outside world from turning Goth Mountain and the Tribe into a circus or a government project."

"I think it's brilliant," Johnny added, grinning at Two Bears. "Professor, this is indeed the research opportunity of a lifetime. No, of a million lifetimes. We'll all help you chronicle things, including Dooley and me. Someday your work will be of huge value both to us and to humanity. You'll be world famous, and Dooley too."

"There will still have to be acceptance of all of this by Ned's friends, but that shouldn't be a problem," added Ann.

" _I have discussed this with Baldor already_ ," pathed Two Bears to Johnny and Ann. " _He trusts our judgment and he thinks that Pru will agree_."

" _He and McGregor could collaborate_ ," replied Johnny.

" _That has already been discussed also_ ," pathed Two Bears. " _A trip to the Land of the People is likely sometime in the very near future for both Dooley and his father_."

"Dooley, what do you want us to do?" asked his father. "Would you like me to spend most of my time with you on Goth Mountain, while you live with the Tribe and Johnny and train to be a full shaman?"

Dooley's smile was again huge. "Will there be berry pie too? And ice cream for Pop and me?"

"As much as you can eat," said Ann. "I'll see to that part. I've decided to stay on Goth Mountain also."

Smiles and hugs ensued, brought up short by Two Bears raising his huge arms to signal silence and to regain everyone's attention. "No time now for the usual ceremony, but this will do for now." He drew out from its sheath his huge hunting knife, closed his eyes, and held it to his heart. After a moment of silence his eyes opened, and those present noted that he now held not just one knife, but two.

The second knife was a half-sized version of the first one, which appeared to be unchanged. "Tree Talker," Two Bears announced solemnly, "I appoint you Tribe Apprentice Shaman. This knife is yours forever."

He handed the knife to Dooley.

Dooley accepted the shaman artifact with a big smile. "I mostly figure on cutting pie with this." His smile faded and sobered almost into a most un-Dooley like scowl. "But there won't be no time for pie now, Johnny."

Johnny nodded in agreement. "Right, partner. Let's go find our Elizabeth."

****

CHAPTER 29

FRUSTRATION

Johnny, Ned, and Dooley sat a short distance down the path from the Cube, where they could hopefully watch it safely. They had done so for almost half an hour, and had so far observed only the deserted path of another world. The doppelganger Elizabeth sat slightly further away from the Cube, and had dozed off.

Dooley's eyes were on the Cube, but they were glazed over. His thoughts were mostly of the forest life forces that seemed to surge around him. It was as if his vision had been clouded, and now, with his unicorn knife and the enhancing effects of the Cube, everything was sharp and clear and even more wonderful than he had ever imagined.

Johnny looked at Dooley and smiled. He could imagine what his friend was experiencing and was happy for him, but had to turn to the business at hand. They had learned more about the mysterious Cube over the last few days than the Tribe had learned in all the previous centuries. Now it was time to put it all together.

"Tell me about when you found what you thought was my father's body, Ned."

Ned shook his goat head and moaned. It was one of the worst days in his life that Johnny was asking him to remember. Mark had been a close friend to Ned, and the father of his closest human friend, young Johnny Goth. Finding him dead had been a tremendous shock.

Johnny rested a strong hand on his little friend's shoulder, steadying him. "I know it hurts to think of such things, but please try. Exactly where did you find him, for example?"

Ned nodded, stood, and motioned Johnny to follow him. He walked about twenty meters down the path, stopped, and pointed to the ground near the One Tree.

"Here? So far from the Cube? But that can't be right. It should have been right next to the Cube. It was a dead body being exchanged, it couldn't have moved itself!"

Ned shrugged. "Baaaaaaa," he remarked, anxiously.

Johnny sighed. Ned was obviously telling the truth. When they were kids Ned would pull tricks on almost everyone, sometimes stretching truth into a very tall tale, but Johnny could always tell when he did it. "Sorry. OK, where did you find Mort?"

Ned pointed again. "Baaaaaa. Same place Johnny, honest!"

Johnny shook his head. How was that possible? He had witnessed Elizabeth's transfer himself. If Dad and Mort had been switched the same way the bodies of the doppelgangers should have been found within a few meters of the Cube.

No, there was no avoiding an unlikely conclusion. Someone had to have moved the doppelganger bodies from near the Cube before Ned found them.

That line of thought was disrupted when the Cube switched over to a new universe. A dozen solders with army uniforms and rifles peered out at them in astonishment. One appeared to be shouting at them angrily, and gesturing with his rifle.

Johnny wrote on his white board with a marker and showed it to the solders: "We are looking for a lost Elizabeth, Mark and Mort. Are any of them in your world?"

One of the solders hastily pulled pen and papers from a pocket and replied. "You are trespassing on Government property. Come out and surrender to us or we will use force," it said.

"Impossible," Johnny replied, with an amused smile.

The soldiers became agitated and for the next half hour tried in vain to penetrate the Cube using rifles, torches, acids, explosives, and artillery, and through repeatedly driving a massive tank into it. Johnny and the others in their universe mostly ignored them. They only bothered to take cover when some sort of huge laser cannon was brought to bear on them, but they needn't have worried. They quickly realized that the Cube must limit the intensity of light penetration, since only a pale, weak, harmless beam of laser light got through.

The Cube shimmered and the next view was a totally black one, and Johnny concluded that they were viewing an obsidian rock-face. In the alternative universe being viewed the Cube was apparently encased in volcanic rock. There was nothing they could do but wait, while preparing for the next view.

"This is discouraging," said Johnny. "We have no idea whatsoever about when we'll see Elizabeth again, if ever."

"We'll find her, Johnny," said Dooley. "I know we will."

"There may be an infinite number of other worlds, with only one of them containing our Elizabeth. If we do see an Elizabeth, how will we even know if she's the right one?"

"I don't know how," said Dooley. "But Elizabeth is smart too. Maybe she'll know."

"Maybe," said Johnny. "We can get her to name her cat and her Aunt and ask her about falling off a cliff." Using a marker, Johnny wrote several questions on pieces of paper, forming small signs that could be used for conversation.

The Cube shimmered and Elizabeth appeared. Two Bears stood next to her, holding her hand tightly, but he relaxed and actually smiled when he saw Johnny, Dooley, and beyond them the napping Elizabeth doppelganger. But she stared with apprehension at Ned.

"Our Elizabeth is lost," said Johnny's first paper.

The Two Bears Doppelganger pointed at his Elizabeth and nodded, then wrote on a chalkboard and held it up. "What is the name of her dog?" it asked. He pointed past them, at the Elizabeth doppelganger.

Johnny summoned their doppelganger Elizabeth to come closer and join them. "I don't have a dog," was her answer.

Johnny smiled and showed his next sign. "What is your cat's name, Elizabeth?" it asked.

"I don't have a cat," was the other Elizabeth's answer.

Both parties were disappointed. Neither world had the Elizabeth that the other sought.

"Who is your furry friend," the Two Bears asked next, as he pointed to Ned.

"One of the People," Johnny replied. "A shape shifter."

Two Bears shook his head and shrugged in puzzlement.

"Wow!" exclaimed Johnny. "No People in their world either!"

For the remaining half hour much other curious information was exchanged. They found out that the other universe had both a Mark and a Mort that belonged where they were, so switching them between universes was out of the question.

"If we get a chance to get your daddy or Mort we'll need their dead doppelganger bodies here to do the switch," observed Dooley astutely.

"You are right," agreed Ned.

"Yes, it could be just as likely to find Mort or Dad as it is to find Elizabeth," added Johnny.

The Cube shimmered, and they were looking at a deserted patch of woods. It was probably a world where everyone was where they were supposed to be, thought Johnny enviously. He shook his head and sighed, and was then quiet for several seconds before he again spoke. "I have just now asked Two Bears to ask Pru to fetch the body of my father's doppelganger. He'll also see if that Artistic License bunch can fetch Mort's body from the cemetery in town.

"But it could be highly unlikely that we'll find any of them in the Cube. Some physicists interpret quantum mechanics as an infinite splitting of universes. Every quantum interaction results in a new universe, implying far more universes than there are particles in any one universe. What if what we see in the Cube is a few of the universes that result, randomly selected? There could be countless new universes created each second. If there are infinite universes, the chances of repeating a universe would be very small; zero for all practical purposes. Not only that, our own universe will have split countless infinities of times since Elizabeth left it. Maybe the whole concept of trying to return to one's own universe doesn't even make sense."

Dooley shook his head. "Maybe Pop would understand those things, but not me. But we'll get her back, Johnny, I know that for a fact."

Johnny wished he had Dooley's confidence, but their efforts seemed to be getting nowhere. Still, he didn't totally discount his friend's optimism either. Dooley always had a way of knowing such things. The other kids used to tease him about some of the strange things he said, but it usually turned out that he was right. Hopefully Dooley was right this time too, though there seemed to be too much cold logic going against it.

He hoped that Elizabeth was making headway on her end, because from where he stood, things seemed altogether too damn slow and hopeless.

****

Elizabeth sat in a Doppelganger world with the Doppelganger Johnny, five meters from the Cube. In the alternate universe they currently viewed, the Cube was evidently buried in rock, so there was currently nothing of interest to view, but she was having an interesting discussion with Johnny about multiple universes.

"So you think this thing might be cycling through only a finite number of universes?" she asked.

"Yes, Elizabeth. It's a hypothesis supported by only limited observations, but I suspect that it will prove to be true."

"What observations?"

"Two types. First, all alternate universes seem to have started diverging ten to twenty years ago at a minimum. Others have perhaps split off longer ago, but not longer than a few decades. So the universes we see are certainly not random; otherwise we'd be seeing universes where Germany won the World War Two or Rome still rules and so-forth.

"The second thing is that we've seen some of the same messages passed among us more than once. Even the set of universes that split off only ten to twenty years ago should effectively be infinite, if there are an infinity of universes generated every second. Somehow the number of universes being viewed is limited by the Cube. Seeing the identical message twice implies that the ensemble of universes viewed is significantly limited, perhaps to only a few hundred, perhaps with the set of universes in play redefined every few decades."

"That still sounds like a lot of universes."

"A lot to view one at a time, but on the average messages can be sent faster, because they propagate somewhat geometrically. It only works because the number of universes is limited. You tell folks in several universes something, and they tell several others, and so forth. I've modeled it on my PC."

"OK, I get it" said Elizabeth. "But what does that imply, beyond the obvious?"

"This thing may be millions of years old, and it has been here for thousands of years at least, but we see people that we know in family and cultural contexts that we recognize. So the whole business must sort of start over every so often and limit the universes it views to ones that are relatively nearby, space-time wise. And anyway, it sort of makes sense that the Cube could have capability limitations such that it can only tune in to a finite set of universes over finite periods of time. And that means you have a chance, Elizabeth."

"Great. On the other hand, if the Cube cycle starts over again before we've found my home world we're probably screwed, and so are Mark and Mort. Do you have your marker board? Let's send a message to my Johnny geometrically."

****

Three hours later an increasingly frustrated Johnny Goth was astonished to see written on a marker board held by one of his doppelgangers the following:

"Message to My White Wolf in the only world with unicorns and looking for me, his lost Elizabeth: (1) ours is the ONLY universe with the People, (2) a finite number of universes are shown and they might recycle, (3) the set of universes may reset every few decades, so we need hurry. Please everyone in all worlds, pass this message on to others."

A smiling Johnny read the message several times, then sent a message of his own:

"Message received from Elizabeth by her Johnny and the goat guy Ned. Be ready. Mark and Mort should also look for me and for Ned. Johnny Goth; unicorn friend."

"What does it all mean, Johnny?" Dooley asked.

"Hope, Dooley. Real progress at last, thanks to Elizabeth. But there are obviously other implications. If only our universe has the People, that implies that the split always starts from this universe, or at least returns to it. Another way to look at it is that the Cube is coupled to our particular universe in a special way. Maybe because we have The People in ours, it's fixated on this universe in a special way. It never loses track of this universe."

"But none of the People can do anything with the Cube," protested Ned. "Even Pru avoids it."

"And she helps influence everyone else to avoid it too. From what we've seen it looks like in at least half the other universes folks are viewing the Cube regularly, and exchanging doppelgangers using the Cube isn't that uncommon. In this universe not even the shaman and Goths view the Cube very much."

"Your Pop did," said Dooley.

"Yes, he broke the rules, like we're doing now. But even when they were looking for him after he disappeared, Mom and Mort didn't study the Cube long enough to figure anything out. They didn't even know that there are multiple universes involved. Well Mom didn't and initially Mort didn't. I think they took a few quick looks and didn't see my Dad, and gave up. Mort must have kept at it though, and that was his downfall. If only we knew more about the Cube earlier!"

"That's not their fault, Johnny; for thousands of years everyone has been afraid of the Cube," said Ned.

"Did any of your folk look in the Cube for my Dad?" Johnny asked.

The little Goat man shrugged. "Pru did, at least briefly. Pru is the only one of the People that has seen the Cube much, but she doesn't like being near the thing."

"She said that she doesn't?" asked Johnny.

"No, but that's the way she acts."

"Interesting."

"I'll get to meet with unicorns soon, right Johnny?" asked Dooley. "I like unicorns!"

"As soon as possible," said Johnny.

"They're like the Cube, aren't they?" Dooley remarked.

"What?" said Johnny, taken aback by what his friend had said.

"They feel like the Cube."

"The unicorns do? What do you mean?"

"Different from you and me. Different than rocks or trees or anything else. Different from the other People. But a lot like each other. More like each other than like us. They both feel like they're somewhere else. Especially Pru. Dark feels different from that. Dark feels like he's here. My new knife feels like Pru and the Cube too."

"That's all really interesting Dooley; and it might help," said Johnny, though he couldn't confirm or fully understand what Dooley was telling him. Johnny sensed nothing at all when he examined the Cube or the unicorns, but Dooley could apparently sense much more. Maybe it was an innate ability related to shaman abilities. "That would seem to support the hypothesis that there is some sort of relationship between the Cube and the People."

"An interesting hypothesis, young Goth," said a new voice that sounded a little like chimes blowing in the wind. Pru's silver and white form appeared on the path a few meters away, near where the Elizabeth doppelganger had been napping. The young lady opened her eyes and gasped when she saw Pru. The unicorn kept her black eyes trained on Johnny. "Your observations and conclusions are astute. We will talk, but first help me with Mark's remains."

A body-sized package of canvas tarps wrapped around the remains of Mark Goth suddenly appeared across Pru's back, causing Elizabeth to again gasp. Johnny levitated it gently to a spot next to him. He could sense bones and decaying flesh inside, but he smelled nothing unpleasant; probably Pru had seen to that. He thanked her for that, silently.

"What are you?" the astonished Elizabeth doppelganger asked Pru. "How can you make things appear from nothing?"

"She's a unicorn," explained Johnny.

"So that's what a unicorn is! Well, we certainly don't have anything like it where I come from."

Johnny repeated all that they had just discussed to the attentive unicorn, who whinnied and nodded at points.

"Your insights are astonishing, Johnny," Pru stated, when he had finished. "There are of course an infinity of parallel universes, that has always been known to us, and we have long felt that the Cube object taps into some of them. However, your characterization of its properties and behaviors are remarkable and unprecedented.

"Most astonishing however, is your conclusion that the Cube has a relationship with the People, supported by the young shaman's sense that we unicorns and it are indeed somehow similar in substance."

Pru turned her black pitted eyes to regard the Cube. "We unicorns have also sensed such a thing. The Cube has powers and substance that are more similar to our own than to the ordinary matter and life of your world. We don't know exactly what that implies, other than to fear even more the Cube's power and its potential for causing misery. This is a primary reason why we avoid the object and persuade you humans to do the same and to help hide it."

"It's not evil," stated Dooley.

Pru whinnied. "Again, your perception astonishes me, young Dooley. I share that perception also, though I do not trust it. The Cube is a machine. Can any machine be inherently evil? Your senses serve you well, however. In you Two Bears has made a very wise selection."

Dooley's face blushed red, and he couldn't help grinning, as the unicorn continued.

"We sense no evil, and the object does in fact stimulate health and strength for the life of this world. Yet we do not trust it, and avoid it. But in avoiding it, we have apparently learned less about it than you seem to have learned in an astonishingly short time."

"Surely over the many years you have been here you learned more about it."

The unicorn fixed Johnny with its dark eyes. "To the contrary, over the centuries we seem to have learned less about it. That is to say, we suspect that we unicorns once knew much about it that we have now forgotten."

"Even if that is so, couldn't you relearn what it is?," asked Johnny. "You can walk through mountains, Pru. Have you ever tried to enter the Cube?"

"No. I have always feared unknown consequences. I have gently probed it from a distance, but it remains an enigma. It light of the positive effects it produces, and its potential for harm, avoiding it has seemed to be the best policy."

"When did you last seriously probe it?"

"The first time that I remember was perhaps ten thousand years ago, but most recently after your father disappeared."

It was time for Johnny's jaw to drop open. "You personally probed this Cube ten thousand years ago?"

"Possibly the Cube was already here when we arrived on Earth. We do not remember when it is that we arrived, or how we arrived."

"But that means that you personally arrived on Earth more than ten thousand years ago?"

"Yes. I have discussed such matters with your father and more recently with Gus McGregor. My kind live longer than the People and much longer than humans. Our life form is very different."

Johnny nodded. "Interesting, but we have no time to discuss this further right now. Apparently only Dooley and perhaps unicorns can interact with the Cube, aside from the switching of doppelgangers. If anyone can influence the Cube, it would therefore be one or both of you."

"Your logic is sound," commented Pru.

"I want to help, Johnny," said Dooley fearfully, "but I don't know much about a lot of things, and this Cube thing I don't know hardly nothing at all about."

Johnny smiled at his friend and reached out to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "I know Dooley, but perhaps with Pru to guide us, we'll have a chance."

"My knowledge is also limited," volunteered Pru. "In addition, the Cube, when left alone, has posed little danger. To the contrary, it stimulates life. Yet the great power it exudes could conceivably be bent to evil purposes, perhaps by accident, but perhaps through intent. Also doppelganger exchange is problematic. Hence the People have generally avoided contact with it, and persuaded humans to do the same."

"Are you saying that you won't help us?" asked Johnny.

Pru shook her head slowly. "That is yet to be decided. But to tamper with the function of the Cube could potentially be very dangerous. The Council will help decide if I should attempt what you are asking."

Johnny took a deep breath, to quell his frustration. After all, he couldn't simply blame Pru for all the wasted years that could have been used to search for his father. There were Mother, and Mort, and Two Bears, and even himself to blame, if blame was to be assigned to anyone. But now he was sure as hell going to get back Elizabeth, as well as Dad and Uncle Mort, with or without help from Pru or any of the People.

Johnny and Dooley walked with Pru to the One Tree. "Baldor will remain to defend you and your forest while I speak to the Council," Pru stated. "I may bring Fen here also, before the Council meets. As a shape-shifter experienced with human ways he may be of some help, and he will be pleased to again enter your world the way that his nephew Ned does.

"Even with our help, you face formidable difficulties. Good luck to you both, Shaman Dooley and Johnny Goth." With that, Pru walked into the cliff-face beside the One Tree and was gone.

"I wish she didn't go away," said Dooley.

"We'll still have Baldor," noted Johnny. "And soon Fen also, perhaps."

"Pru is special," said Dooley. "There is only one Pru."

"Of course she's special. All unicorns are."

"No, Johnny, I mean she feels a little different than the other unicorns. Closer to how the Cube feels than the others. She is special."

"Interesting. So then, she's probably the unicorn we need! Well, I hope she comes back to help us soon. There may be an infinite number of Johnnies and Dooleys, but there is only one like her in all of existence, apparently."

"There are great gobs of Dooleys." Dooley said, grinning. "Tons and tons of Dooleys." The concept intrigued him.

Johnny's jaw dropped open. "Eureka, that's it!" he exclaimed. "Many Dooleys, all of them with shaman powers and many with access to perhaps the same Cube that spans multiple universes! That's what we need: Dooley power! Maybe we won't even need Pru after all!"

Johnny sat in front of the marker board and began writing.

****

Universes away, Elizabeth contemplated strategy with her new friends in the cabin as they packed more supplies and equipment for an extended Cube watch. "Johnny, there must be something more we can do."

"We are doing it, Elizabeth. Every information exchange we have brings us knowledge that will hopefully allow you to go home someday."

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but someday isn't good enough. In my world Goth Mountain, my Johnny and the Tribe are in grave danger and my situation has got to be distracting them, making them vulnerable to the evil of Dark and Fenster and Small Bear. No offense to you, Small Bear."

"None taken," said Small Bear. "I'm ready to go back to the Mountain. See you up there." He hoisted a huge knapsack on his shoulder and left the cabin.

"You know, I've been thinking," said Johnny. "Perhaps both the Cube and those you call the People in your world are akin to independent observers in a quantum mechanical sense."

"You're losing me again," objected Elizabeth.

"In observing and interpreting physical phenomena it is logically and physically useful for the observing entity to be independent and immutable relative to what is observed, yet that is inherently impossible when dealing with quantum-scale phenomena. The Cube and unicorns at their whim seem to be able to be both within our universe and able to interact or not interact with it. The Cube is impenetrable most of the time, and you have said that unicorns can pass through ordinary solid matter as though it doesn't exist.

"I conclude that both the Cube and the unicorns may literally be constructed of matter that is not subject to the ordinary laws of physics as we know them."

"I agree," said Mark Goth. "But I object to a multiverse interpretation of quantum mechanics on several grounds. First, it would amount to spontaneous creation on an unimaginable scale. Second, how does each entire otherwise identical universe instantaneously find out that one universe has split from another? No required universe-wide transmission of information has ever been detected, faster than light speed or otherwise.

"Finally, even given transmission of information, how does each bit of each universe distinguish between each of the new universes that comes to being at every moment, when they differ only in terms of a single quantum event that has taken place anywhere in the universe? How would each tiny piece of each universe gather and store, and mechanize use of such information, so much information that no universe could contain it? Yet it would have to, otherwise interactions with other universes would be noticed."

"Perhaps not," argued Johnny. "Perhaps the entire ensemble of nearly the same universes is detectable only at tiny distances, actually forming the mechanism for quantum uncertainty."

"That approach still suffers from similar objections. Statistically, there should occur instances when the influence of objects in nearby universes is asymmetric, and objects in this universe would be mysteriously influenced in unexpected ways, but that has never been detected."

"Perhaps the quantum probability distributions experienced in each universe is precisely the evidence of other universes that you think is missing," objected Johnny.

"I think those are too regular. Besides, note that a multi-verse model going back only a decade or two does not fit the facts perfectly."

"No?" asked Johnny.

"No. Unicorns have existed in Elizabeth's world for many hundreds of years, but not in any of the other universes that the Cube lets us see, or in ours. Multiverse splitting beginning with a common universe only a decade or two ago wouldn't account for this."

"True, Dad. I follow and would otherwise agree with your logic, but the multiple universe interpretation still matches our observations best. Combined with the perfect observer concept, it might explain it all. As perfect observers, the unicorns can exist in only one universe, or perhaps in all of them, as the Cube does. As a second perfect observer, the Cube can apparently exist in multiple universes of choice, including the one with unicorns. Maybe it is anchored to their universe somehow due to the presence of the People there."

"Perhaps, Son. And that line of thought can perhaps be extended to explain psychic phenomena, if over time biological structures can evolve to in a small way interfere with normal physics. But you know that I've always favored a transactional interpretation of quantum mechanics, which includes a concept of negative time. Strange as negative time seems, it is a much cleaner and far more conservative concept than one that involves infinities of infinities of universes."

As the two Goths continued their increasingly abstract discussion, Elizabeth left the Cabin almost unnoticed. Ann followed her out, carrying two huge backpacks. "My Johnny is not quite the same as yours, I take it."

"I guess I've landed in an extremely nerdy universe," reasoned Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, but I don't care what the scientific explanation is, I just want to get home. To do that, I need to get back up the Mountain to the Cube; that much I do know."

"Agreed." Ann handed Elizabeth one of the backpacks. "We're re-supplied. I for one don't plan on leaving that Cube until you're home. Let's go. The men can catch up if and when they even notice that we've gone."

Small Bear met them at the inner gate and walked with them up the trail towards the Cube, where Laura and Two Bears already watched and waited.

Elizabeth liked this world where even Small Bear was a good person, but she desperately needed to get back to her own world.

****

CHAPTER 30

ELIZABETH DISCOVERED

Across dozens of worlds, Dooley Simples were being sought, along with the particular Mark Goth and Mort Goth that were stranded away from their unique, unicorn inhabited universe.

Some Dooleys were trained to act as a shaman, some weren't, but all of them began to focus on the Cube and ask it to respond to them. They were all asking it to speed up its cycle time.

"It's working," said Johnny. "That last cycle was only twenty minutes, not thirty."

They had already increased the speed of their search for Elizabeth by fifty percent. The next cycle was ten minutes long, and after a couple more cycles, it had decreased to the target rate of once per five minutes. Johnny sent out a message to stay at that rate. The period further reduced to three minutes, climbed back to five, and finally stabilized.

The Doppelganger Elizabeth and the remains of the Doppelganger Mark Goth remained nearby, ready to do an exchange within the five minute window of opportunity if and when the right world presented itself.

Johnny and Dooley were kept busy communicating with inhabitants of each new world that popped into view every five minutes, while taking care that they weren't accidentally pulled into another universe themselves.

Humans were seen in about half of the other universes. In those, Elizabeths remained relatively rare, Johnnies and tribal shaman remained common, and Marks and Morts nearly as common.

More and more Dooleys were observed. Dooley and his doppelgangers were always very thrilled to see each other and to exchange hand waving, winks, thumbs-up signals and raspberries. They were a bit disruptive however, as they were very inclined to send messages about fruit pies and practical jokes, instead of about the serious matter at hand.

The interference problem was not confined to Dooleys. Communications become more and more chaotic, as increasingly, messages that had nothing to do with Johnny's objective of retrieving Elizabeth, Mark, and Mort were received along with requests that they also be forwarded. There were evidently many folks that wanted to get home; Goths and tribe members on most of the unknown thousands of worlds had at least one displaced person to rescue. So many messages were bouncing between the universes they had to be interfering in a negative way, Johnny feared. He put out several extra messages, asking that extraneous messages be stopped temporarily, given the life and death situation in his own universe. This was followed by several cycles of messages that also asked that most messages be postponed.

Johnny was so busy handling messages that Dooley was the first to realize that the frantically waving and grinning Elizabeth in the Cube was the Elizabeth they sought.

"Johnny, Ned, it's me, your Elizabeth from the only universe that includes unicorns," her sign said.

Within half a minute she had switched universes with the Doppelganger Elizabeth and was again in her true Johnny's arms, applauded by several onlookers in both worlds.

"Oops, let's not do that again," Dooley commented, as he pulled the happy couple further away from the Cube.

"And let's not quit now either," said Johnny. "One down and two to go. Dad and Mort are out there somewhere."

****

CHAPTER 31

SHAMAN POWER

" _I sense evil_ ," pathed Two Bears to Johnny suddenly, interrupting the joyful story of Elizabeth's rescue being told from the point of view of two universes. " _Baldor and I are moving to intercept_ ," he added.

" _Good luck_ ," shot back Johnny.

"Wow!" exclaimed Dooley. "I heard your talking in my head!"

Johnny smiled to see his friend discover more of his powers, but he was worried. Who was it that was invading the forest? Was it Small Bear, answering his challenge? Or was it Dark again? Or was it both of them?

****

Two Bears arrived at the scene of the battle deep in the Goth woods only minutes later, but he was already too late. At first he had a hard time making any sense of what he found, but then realization hit him so hard that it staggered him. He would have thought it impossible, but there was no mistaking what had happened.

He closed his eyes and linked himself more strongly with the forest to both calm himself and to focus on sensing the powerful evil forces that must have accomplished such horror, but he sensed nothing in the immediate vicinity except a lingering hint of death that led deeper into the forest.

" _Baldor has been defeated, Johnny, and a great evil is moving towards you_ ," he pathed.

" _Dark?_ " Johnny asked.

" _I suspect so but I can't be totally certain._ "

" _Baldor doesn't know?_ "

" _Baldor is destroyed. Cut into pieces._ "

It took a moment for Johnny to reply. " _Pieces? My God!_ "

Though it hurt him to do so, Two Bears again surveyed the scene, using all his senses. Sections of glowing white unicorn were scattered through the forest, each piece cut cleanly as though by a great sharp knife. Baldor looked like a sliced up statue; there was no blood or gore, only a solid white material that resembled marble or solid, hard plastic. The great glowing horn was nowhere to be found.

" _Yes, he was sliced into dozens of pieces, none larger than a turkey. It had to be Dark, perhaps using iron weapons. Small Bear would not have the strength to do such a thing. But judging by the trail left by the intruders, there appear to be two of them. Likely it is both Dark and Small Bear, moving towards you._ "

" _We'll be ready_ ," replied Johnny.

Two Bears studied the battle site further. There were burned trees and areas of earth where blasts of power had smashed the surroundings; Baldor had put up a fight. But he had been very quickly overpowered, before he could even voice a warning message.

Such evil would have to be removed from this holy place.

Two Bears looked in the direction of Goth Mountain. Anything that could do this to a unicorn was incredibly dangerous. Johnny would need his help. He was about set off in pursuit of the intruders when he received an urgent radio message from Black Knife. The logging equipment was moving towards the gate, manned by loggers, bikers, and police.

He had to return to the cabin at once. He couldn't join Johnny and the others on the Mountain. That meant that unless more help arrived from the People, Johnny, Dooley, Ned, and Elizabeth were on their own.

As he approached the cabin he could hear the sound of dozens of engines belonging to heavy equipment, starting up. Near the inner gate he was surprised to be met by a grinning Angela Welborne.

"Two Bears! Back from the dead, I see! Johnny's work, I bet," she told him.

"You must be Angela." Up to this point Angela had stayed mostly in her rental car and Two Bears had managed to avoid her.

"I have a proposition for you. I had my father acquire new logging equipment and the National Guard with attack vehicles to aid Fenster. I can have him take it all back again if you give me what I want."

"And what would that be?"

"I want to know how Johnny does his tricks and I want him to perform those tricks for me publicly, under contract to me. I'll be his agent."

Two Bears frowned, trying to understand just what she was asking and why anyone would want such a thing. But it was no use. White man society was far too odd to comprehend.

Angela was still grinning. "I'm not totally selfish. It's a win-win thing for everyone. We'll all be rich and famous. Given the tourism and research grants and such that will result, your tribe will be able to trade in its tepees for deluxe condos."

Two Bears finally smiled. Her frame of reference for everything was so strange to him that comprehension had been difficult, but this was an easy choice. "No thanks," he stated, simply. He continued walking towards the cabin. He could hear more and more heavy machinery coming to life beyond the outer gate. The noise was so great that if he were a normal man, limited by normal senses, he might be concerned that they had already plowed through the fence and into the Goth forest. But he was one with the forest now, and the forest trees knew exactly where the big machines were.

Angela's face hardened, as she struggled to keep pace with his long strides. "You don't understand; you really have no choice if you want to keep this place in one piece. I've been talking to Fenster and my father. They've had the police arrest most of those silly protesters. We have over a hundred armed men and you have a handful of men with guns without bullets. With Johnny further up the Mountain somewhere your remaining forces are a total joke. We have armored personnel carriers and logging machines that will go right through anything you can throw at them, including even Johnny, if he ever does show. My compromise is your only hope."

"I think you've worn out your welcome, Angela," said Ann Goth, as she stepped into view from around the corner of the cabin. "Get out of here now. We have important things to do."

"I didn't date Johnny all that time to end up with nothing."

"You've already had far more from Johnny than you deserve," said Ann. "Leave now under your own power or you'll be thrown out."

"That's good advice, Miss," seconded Two Bears. " _What news, Ann?_ " he pathed.

" _Not good. Mort's Body is missing from the cemetery near town_."

" _Someone knows too much_ ," answered Two Bears. He didn't have to say who, this was probably the work of Small Bear, again one step ahead of his opposition. Sadly, he pathed the terrible news about Baldor to Ann, and explained his difficult decision to not pursue the intruders and aid Johnny.

Ann's head was pounding, but she closed her eyes and pathed encouragement to Johnny before replying to Two Bears. " _I understand_ ," she pathed. " _I'll prepare the others._ " She turned on her heal and marched back towards the cabin door. Her worst fears were coming true, damn it all to hell!

"What is her problem?" Angela asked.

Two Bears turned to face Angela. "That's not your concern. Now, like Ann says, you've overstayed your welcome. Come; I'll walk you out. I'm headed that way anyhow. I'm going to do something about those noisy folks at the gate."

It was a command, not a request. Angela shrugged and again half walked, half trotted, to keep pace with the enormous stride of Two Bears. As they moved down the driveway, the great trees around them began to sway slowly, though there was no wind. A soft sound, growing ever more immense, rose from millions of leaves stirring, then gradually transitioned to strident scraping, creaking and thrashing of countless branches. Wind began to build, wind caused by the motion of massive trees, rather than the other way around.

"What's happening?" a spooked Angela asked the giant walking next to her, as the sound of logger equipment was almost totally drowned out by the lashing trees.

"I wake the forest, in case your friends are stupid enough to attack it. You see, we are not as defenseless as you seem to think, if we become desperate enough."

For the first time, it occurred to Angela that Johnny wasn't the only one with strange powers. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed movement at ground level among the trees. She saw that there were dozens of animals paralleling their movement along the driveway; ranging in size from tiny unidentifiable rodents to squires, opossums, skunks, raccoons, foxes, and coyotes. She thought that she glimpsed larger animals too, wolves, elk, bears and mountain lions - but she told herself that she was imagining them. At one point she thought that she glimpsed something humanoid in form, but monstrously big and hairy. The creatures moved through the forest silently and with purpose, animals that were normally hunters and prey, now acting together as one. Birds flow above the ground level animals, jays and fiches by the thousands, shadowed from above by swarms of flying insects and scores of owls great and small. Above the restless trees soared hawks and eagles. Still higher, a black thundercloud gathered, defying forecasts of good weather.

In the commotion, Angela hadn't noticed the vine until it was too late. An inch thick and strong as a towing cable, it whipped around her legs and waist quickly. She screamed.

"Relax Miss," said the giant Indian, with a grim smile. "I think you'll be kept safer here for now." With that the vine lifted her off the ground and pulled her into the forest. The thrashing of the forest soon drowned out her screams.

A great brown bear stepped from the forest to join Two Bears. "Greetings, Two Bears," it announced, as it stood before him.

Two Bears recognized who spoke to him, but not the creature's unusually serious attitude. "Greetings, Fen," replied the Shaman, with a warm smile. "It has been far too long a time since you left The Land to see us here on Goth Mountain. Have you come to help defend the forest and the gateway to your hidden home?"

"True, it has been too long, human. Yes, Pru has told us of what you face. Despite the danger of the Evil One, many of us have come to help. I prefer the goat-man form, but that would raise human eyebrows."

"The bear form is a good one for you and for Ned in these dangerous times. What of Pru?"

"She is still trying to persuade the Council of your needs. Those of us that immediately agreed to help came here right away as a personal choice. We intended to report to Baldor but we cannot sense him. Do you know why?"

"I have very bad news for you about Baldor." The Shaman telepathically broadcasted news of the destruction of Baldor, so that all nearby People would learn.

Fen's bear form wavered for several seconds as he struggled with the news, before solidly recapturing his bear-form. "Nothing like this had happened in centuries. One of us will return to the Land to inform Pru and the others," he told Two Bears. "Pru at least will return here, that much is very certain."

****

At the driveway gate Ann Goth and Black Knife faced off Sheriff Barns and dozens of armed men. A dozen National Guard armored personnel carriers were poised to drive through a hundred meter wide stretch of fence. Behind them loomed several dozen massive tree cutting and hauling machines. All were running and manned by logger drivers accompanied by rifle carrying biker and police thugs.

"Move out of our way now, all of you, or you'll get hurt," Barns shouted through a mega-phone, above the din. Barns tried to keep an eye on the fit looking, rifle toting Tribal policeman and the steely eyed little white woman that faced him, but he couldn't help noticing the thrashing trees and gathering clouds and birds. It was getting darker. It was supposed to be perfectly clear today, but now thunderclouds were building up overhead unnaturally fast. What the hell was going on?

Abruptly the trees became still and the birds quiet. Even with all the vehicle engines still running, it was relatively quiet. Barns and his men looked about, seeking the cause of the sudden change.

"I AM SHAMAN OF THIS FOREST," rang out an impossibly loud voice, as the sky flashed lightning. It was Two Bears, standing atop a nearby boulder with his great arms raised and his long hair fluttering about in the sudden wind. The voice however, came from him and from everywhere, and especially from the lightning that now continuously churned in the cloud above. "LEAVE THIS PLACE IN PEACE NOW." It was unmistakably the voice of Two Bears, but magnified a thousand-fold into a voice of thunder. Scores of birds and animals suddenly appeared around the shaman, and advanced on the police and loggers like a flood.

Everyone heard the words of Two Bears, even loggers shut inside truck cabs to the rear of the column. Also two hundred arrested Artistic License protesters that had been chained to several saplings by the police heard the Shaman. "That's a raven," said one of them. Sure enough, a huge, outsized blackbird sat in one of the young trees, watching them. It dropped out of the tree and landed on the thick logging chain that all of the protesters were handcuffed to, next to the massive lock that held its ends together.

It seemed to be trying to stick its long and too thick beak into the lock's keyhole for a few moments, and then pulled the lock open with its feet.

"That ain't no raven, it's a Harry damn Houdini bird!" exclaimed their leader Janet Logan, who was sitting nearest the lock. "Let's get after those cops!" she exclaimed, as she pulled the heavy chain trough her handcuffs.

"No. Your help is greatly appreciated but is no longer needed here," spoke the raven loudly, with a surprisingly human-like voice, perhaps with a hint of Billy-goat. "Leave now for your own safety, Artistic License. Flee further down the Mountain!" As the astonished protesters watched it fly up into the air, its shape shimmered and then stabilized into that of a gigantic golden eagle. "Thank you, but go now!" it said in the same voice, before lifting higher, where it was joined by dozens of other great eagles that also dared the still darkening sky.

Janet shrugged. "OK, you heard the talking bird thing that freed us. Let's move down the road slowly. We'll stop any cop reinforcements coming the other way. Let's take the chain with us and string it across the road. That should slow them down."

****

From the lead APC, Barns ordered the attack. A hail of automatic gunfire blasted dozens of birds and other wild animals into eternity. Barns would have cut down that bastard Two Bears himself, if the shaman and Ann Goth hadn't disappeared into the forest along with the other Tribesmen.

Skunk sat in the gun turret, gleefully firing the twin fifty caliber machine guns into the forest.

The animals kept coming. It was unnatural, for animals to ignore gunfire and attack humans this way. After the initial barrage of bullets however, the creatures were managing to dodge the bullets with uncanny skill. His men were spooked, Barns could tell. They were on their radios, jabbering and screaming about birds and bears and bugs coming out of the woods and attacking them.

"What the hell!" cursed Skunk, as several tiny birds squeezed through the gun turret viewing port and attacked the big man, pecking at eyes and ears. He closed the port before more could enter, then with great relish smashed the tiny creatures, swatting them dead one by one with a huge hand.

When the bees, wasps and other flying insects attacked, the human noise became mostly screaming. Fortunately for the men in half a dozen of the APCs, ports and vents had already been closed or stuffed with cloth to keep out the birds.

The APCs had to navigate using only infrared camera devices, but they managed. Each APC had one forward looking camera under driver control, and one that was aligned with the turret machine guns. The six remaining operable APCs drove through the boundary fence, smashing wire, posts and any animals that tried to stop them. Barns' APC pushed the massive log gate itself aside and started up the driveway.

Animals and lightly armed Indians couldn't possibly stop them, Barns knew. If they could get the ringleaders, opposition would crumble, and it would all be over. But Two Bears and Ann Goth had both vanished into the trees.

"Gun it, Joe," Barns shouted to his driver, one of his inner circle of deputies that also happened to conveniently be a lieutenant in the National Guard. "We'll head for the cabin and smash it up. That will bring out the bastards we need to take down. After we capture the Goths and that big Indian the others will throw down their weapons. Skunk, radio the other APCs to join us. Together we'll hit the cabin with everything we have."

Moments later something massive clanged onto the roof of their APC, jarring the vehicle violently and causing a foot-wide dent to appear over Barn's head.

"What the hell was that?" asked Skunk. Two more objects struck the vehicle with a dull thud even as he asked.

"Huge tree branches," said Joe, pointing at his forward looking camera monitor. Branches, each weighing hundreds of pounds, were crashing down about the APC, some dead, others decorated in green spring growth. Joe reflexively stopped the forward motion of the APC.

"The damn trees are alive and chucking limbs at us!" said Skunk. He had pointed his turret guns and camera upward. The treetops that formed a canopy more than a hundred feet over the driveway were thrashing about wildly, causing branches to snap off and rain down on them. Skunk fired up at them with the machine gun.

"Save your ammo, dunce," shouted Barns. "Get moving, Joe; get us the hell out of here before we're buried in this stuff!"

Joe put the APC in gear again, bringing over a thousand horsepower of power to bear on huge all-terrain wheels. The APC lurched a few feet forward and stopped, wheels spinning freely. "We're being lifted off the fucking ground," shouted Joe, panic in his voice.

"That's impossible!" replied Barns. "This thing must weigh at least thirty tons."

****

Near the front gate, the lead logging machine ponderously moved halfway onto Goth land before its engine sputtered and stopped. Thousands of ants had smothered the air filter of its powerful engine. Massive hydraulic arms and talons designed to pick up monstrous logs and carry them to waiting flatbed trucks sat motionless, defeated by tiny ants. "Abandon your guns and machine and walk away from here," Black Knife advised the driver from alongside the vehicle.

The man simply stared back at him with terrified eyes.

"You heard me," Black Knife shouted, as he motioned with his hands for the man to come out.

"No damn way," the man replied. "The bugs and animals are crazy out there."

This man was one of the lucky ones. He had closed the windows of the cab quickly and avoided attack for a time, although wasps, bees and flies by the thousands still swarmed around his sanctuary.

Fen in the form of Two Bears joined Black Knife. "Look at the floor of your machine," he commanded the logger.

The man screamed and bolted out of the cab to escape thousands of ants that were pouring through vents and other tiny openings, and fell down into the waiting arms of the fake Two Bears. "Walk home peacefully, and you will be safe," the fake-shaman told the shaken man as he stood him on his feet and pointed him towards town.

The dazed man stumbled away, joining dozens of others.

****

Ann Goth finished applying first aid to a raccoon, and was moving on to her next patient, a wounded grizzly bear. "Take it easy, big fellow," she mumbled, as she sent calming waves of thought into its mind, damping its fear and anger.

The gunshot wound was serious, but with her help the kidney and blood vessels were soon patched up well enough for the great beast to limp away into the woods. "Who's next?" she asked Mary White Dove.

"Got a fool policeman here who dropped out of a tree and hit his head," Mary explained, as two braves carried an unconscious man in uniform to her.

It was a very bad concussion. It was a close thing, but between Mary's initial first aid and Ann's prowess, the man was saved and soon healed. "Next," Ann finally announced.

"How the hell do you do it?" asked her next patient. The man had arrived with compound fractures of both legs, and was now being helped to his feet. "The guy before me was near death, I know he was, and I should have been laid up for at least six months. You took away my pain immediately somehow, without any drugs, then you reset bones and mended bone and flesh in minutes."

"Indian know-how," Ann replied.

"Thank you, whatever it was," he said, as he was led away.

Several of the larger wounded animals healed themselves rapidly without Ann's help and returned to the fray. Ann could sense that they were shape shifters of the People. Two of the most badly wounded regressed into Sasquatch form as they healed, before returning to bear, elk, wolf, or cougar form. Several of the People silently exchanged greetings with Ann, whom they had not seen for many years, including Fen, who had been one of Mark's closest friends.

****

"My fucking gun turret won't turn!" complained Skunk. The gasoline engine had already been choked off by insects and leaves, but the turret and cameras were still operating from battery power.

"Don't try to force it, you fool," shouted Barns. He could hear gears grinding and smell something burning. He pushed his way next to Skunk and pried the biker's huge hand off the control stick.

The Sherriff was too late. The mechanism was busted; he could hear electric motors whining freely but the turret remained motionless. The camera itself still worked; he could see that it showed thick vines wrapped around the gun barrels. As he watched, the heavy steel barrels were bent several degrees by vines as thick as his legs. "Shit!" he exclaimed.

He continued to watch, the camera was pushed by vines until it pointed down and to the rear. In the altered field of view Barns could see another of the APCs. It too was snagged by great vines and was suspended at least twenty feet above the ground, between a giant fur and a massive red cedar. As he watched, the rear hatch of the APC opened and half a dozen men dropped screaming to the ground as clouds of insects swarmed over them. A dozen Tribesmen then collected the incapacitated soldiers, carrying away three of them on makeshift stretchers.

Barns estimated that his own APC was suspended above ground at least forty feet. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed into the radio. "Where is everyone? I need reinforcements now!"

Only a panicked crew of anther APC responded, pleading for help. They claimed their APC was somewhere far up in a tree, hanging upside down. Barns turned off the radio and sat quietly brooding.

"Let's get out of here and blast the bastards," said Skunk, brandishing a machine gun and reaching towards the rear-hatch latch.

Barns acted quickly to stop him. What good were guns? Countless insects, birds, and small animals still swarmed outside. "It's over, you dumb bastard. We lost. Sit down and shut up. If we're lucky, maybe they'll let us surrender."

"Hey, you fellows in the treed tin can," said a voice from outside, right on queue. "Who is it up there?"

"Barns, Skunk Fenster, and our driver Joe. Who's down there?" Barns hoped it was his reinforcements, but he didn't recognize the voice.

"Jake Morgan, that other old fart Billy Wilson, and a few thousand forest friends," replied the voice. "Throw down your guns and climb out and down, and we'll call off the birds and the bees and so forth. We'll escort you off the property peacefully."

"What if we don't go for that," shouted Skunk, before Barns could reply.

"Then we'll drop that damn thing out of the tree and let the ravens and vultures pick up the pieces."

Barns opened the door a crack and looked down. Forty feet below him, two grinning old men stared up at him. Several grizzly bears and wolves stood nearby, also watching him. The air swarmed with insects and birds. Hundreds of small creatures, also well-armed with teeth, stared up at him. "We surrender," Barns shouted.

Despite Skunk's complaints, Barns dropped all weapons to the ground as requested, and then the three men used a rope to climb down. Under the watchful eyes of several snarling bears and wolves, they allowed themselves to be tied up and led away by the two grinning oldsters. One huge bear paid particular attention to Barns. "Warn your boss not to try anything like this again, Barns," growled the bear clearly.

"You got it," the astonished sheriff replied. "That's for damn sure."

****

On the road below the Goth land, Artistic License protesters carried a long, massive iron logging chain, accompanied by several colorful support busses, vans, trucks, and SUVs. Paintings, sculptures, and other forms of art outlandishly decorated all of the vehicles. Instead of confronting arriving reinforcements, the departing protest group was overtaken from behind by dozens of frightened fleeing loggers, police, and national guardsmen, many of them injured.

"We'll reverse course again," said a surprised Janet Logan. "Break out the first aid gear for these poor bastards. It looks like they have lost the war and there have been some casualties." Arriving TV news cameras documented the resulting unlikely scene, as scores of police, guardsmen and loggers suffering from numerous insect bits and other minor injuries were given much appreciated first aid by Artistic License protesters.

****

Bill Fenster was trapped in his limo by a mob of news people on the old logging road three miles from Goth land. "Son of a bitch!" he repeated over and over, as bad news streamed in from his demolished invasion team via cell-phone and radio.

"Is it true that your take-over force has been turned back by forest animals and insects?" shouted a reporter, through the window of his surrounded limo. "Did you pay off government officials in order to push this lumber-grab through?" another asked.

Fenster shook his balding head. This was getting far too ugly and public. Without yielding a word to reporters the limo finally inched its way clear of them and left the scene. There would be other chances to get at the Goths and the Indians, he promised himself.

****

CHAPTER 32

MOUNTAIN STRUGGLE

Higher on Goth Mountain Johnny and Ned sensed the approach of Evil. Further away, he knew that Two Bears was already battling another evil, the evil of human greed and destruction. He knew this from both the telepathic messages of Two Bears and his mother, and from a great surge in the forest life force. Many shape-shifting People also defended the forest with Two Bears, he was glad to sense, including Fen.

The disturbance that approached him was a very negative one. It at first seemed subtle, but when he extended his senses to examine it more closely he encountered an impenetrable black, sickly, chaotic, lifeless stench.

"Dark is coming, Johnny," said Dooley gravely, before Johnny could voice a warning. "Now."

Johnny nodded and motioned Dooley and Elizabeth to get behind him. "Ned, you and I will shield Elizabeth and Dooley from attack," he instructed.

"I doubt it," said a too familiar voice. Dark stood on the path approaching the Cube, clothed in full, blackened, metallic armor, complete with a drawn, meter-long sword. He looked like a medieval knight. "I was hoping for another unicorn, but you'll do for a start, humans."

Johnny sensed that iron formed the armor, and something more. "Damn," he couldn't help muttering, when he realized what it was. It was unicorn-material, like the watches and knives. Though it seemed to be inactive, it still had to be super-tough and perhaps even more impervious to psychic sorts of attacks than iron.

Dark sprang towards them swiftly, sword glistening and armor clunking.

Johnny mentally pushed against Dark as hard as he could, but it slowed him only slightly. He also tried to telekinetically lift him off the ground, but to no avail. Weight wasn't the biggest problem. It was the iron and unicorn material of the armor, Johnny quickly realized. The armor seemed slippery to his powers; most of his telekinetic 'pushing' seemed to be sliding right off the strange metal.

Dark was almost on top of him before Johnny switched tactics, lifting a ten-kilogram rock and physically throwing it at the advancing knight, then continuing to push the rock mentally. It worked; though Johnny couldn't get a good mental grip on the iron suit, he had no trouble controlling the rock as it pushed against Dark's chest, bringing the evil elemental to a dead stop for the moment. Quickly, Johnny added several additional rocks.

"You'll need to do better than that, human," stated Dark, as with difficulty he steadily pushed towards Johnny, to almost within sword-reach.

Ned in grizzly bear form attempted to close on Dark, but was driven back easily by the wickedly welded sword of the elemental. The wounded bear slipped back near Elizabeth to heal his wounds.

"I'll cut you to bits and eat you, shape shifter, after I've finished with wolf boy here," boasted Dark, as he turned his attack again fully on Johnny. "Recognize my sword, boy? Until a short time ago it was a unicorn horn. My entire armor is a combination of iron and unicorn horns, collected over a hundred centuries. With each horn lost, the unicorns were weakened, and lost more memories of their past."

"You were one of them once, weren't you?" asked Johnny. "One of the People gone rogue?"

"Perceptive, Goth," sneered Dark. "But I'm more than that now, Goth. That's enough talk. It's time to finish you and then them off once and for all."

Johnny again met the attack with rocks, pushing back on Dark and blocking sword blows with them. He wished now that he had a proper weapon to counter the sword, but he had none. He had a notion that Dark's iron and unicorn horn blade would cut through knife or watch, just as it had sliced through poor Baldor.

"Ael tou yuama! Ael tou yuama, kannsor," intoned Dooley, in another attempt to drive Dark away, but there seemed to be no effect. The iron and unicorn horn armor apparently shielded Dark from Dooley's powers as well.

Elizabeth physically threw smaller rocks at Dark, in a hopeless attempt to distract him. She also kept an eye on the Cube, which at the moment showed a deserted, peaceful scene, completely at odds with the desperate battle occurring in her own universe.

For a moment when she saw a big Indian appear behind Dark she thought it was Two Bears, but her elation was short lived.

"Hello Johnny," said the all too familiar voice. "Got your squaw back again alive, I see, so you figured how the Source works, like your daddy and uncle did." Small Bear was carrying a large tarp-wrapped bundle that he dropped to the ground and quickly doused with a large canteen full of clear liquid. "I should have done this to both bodies when I originally found them near the Cube, and taken the watches, but at the time I wanted them each found dead and my secrets kept, and I was afraid of the watches."

Small Bear pointed at the bundle and it burst into intense flame as he roared with laughter. "It's a good power that I have, Johnny, starting fires. Better than any of yours. It worked at the Healing Place really good for me, so good that the gasoline was only to confuse things. My fire starting powers are going to work fine on the entire Holy Forest after I'm done here. The Great Tree will make quite a grand fire, won't it? But right now you can say goodbye to your Uncle Mort."

It was the doppelganger Mort body, recovered from its cemetery grave site, that Small Bear had put on the ground and torched. Fuming himself, Johnny took a few steps towards the grinning Indian and nearly got cut in two by Dark.

While Johnny dodged Dark's sword and struggled to reposition his telekinetically controlled rocks, Small Bear lobbed what looked like a two-quart paper milk carton beyond them and towards the Cube. In moments the second bundle of remains burst into flame. "Say goodbye to your daddy too, Johnny," shouted Small Bear gleefully. "Even if you find them in the Cube, you'll have no doppelganger remains to trade for them. When I moved the bodies away from the Cube I thwarted their recovery only temporarily, but now they are lost forever!"

The Mark Goth doppelganger remains were also engulfed in flame. Elizabeth pulled off her jacket and attacked the flames, trying to beat them down, but was repelled by the intense heat. Ned, still badly wounded though healing quickly, could only grunt his disapproval.

"It's a special napalm sort of stuff I got from Fenster, Johnny," said Small Bear, laughing gleefully. "Both bodies are already gone. Without their doppelgangers there's no way to get either of them back through the Cube now. Oh, and I saved some napalm for you and Dooley. I want nothing left of you two except your watch and his knife. With those totems I'll be able to get rid of Uncle Two Bears for good." He lobbed another milk-carton-like container towards Johnny and Dooley. "Then I'll use your squaw as I kill her slow."

Johnny withdrew his telekinetic push from Dark and redirected it at the container that flew towards him, which burst into flame as it flew far from the battle.

Unimpeded, Dark charged at Johnny, but was bowled over by the massive Bear that was Ned. With claws and fangs, Ned tore the sword from Dark's hand, but the bear was soon being knocked senseless by Dark's metal clad fists.

As the stunned Ned-bear shrank to goat-man form, Johnny launched a flying drop-kick at Dark, knocking the evil elemental to the ground and away from Dooley, but leaving himself also lying on the ground and looking down the barrel of a rifle held by Small Bear. "No more games Goth," the Indian said simply, as he pulled the trigger.

The rifle barrel was knocked downward as it discharged by a Dooley Simple flying tackle, and the deadly shot went into the ground in front of Johnny.

Small Bear recovered quickly, and sent the already dazed Dooley sprawling into Johnny with a powerful kick before again taking aim with the rifle at Johnny. Even as Johnny began to again focus on deflecting the expected shot, Small Bear's entire body shuttered and the rifle dropped completely out of his limp hands. Wide eyed, Small Bear looked down in astonishment at the half a meter-long length of bloody sword that protruded from his chest. Before he could collapse he was turned around and seized roughly by his shirt and held up by a metal-gloved hand.

"I warned you that Goth is mine!" Dark spat into the big Indian's dying eyes. He yanked the sword out with one hand and with the other threw the limp lifeless body of Small Bear a dozen meters down the path. "I'll snack on his heart later. You are mine now Goth, along with the watches and knives of you and your friends. They'll soon join my armor and allow me to control the Source, just as they've helped me live for thousands of years. The unicorns and their friends hid the Cube from me for all those centuries, but now it's mine. I'll use it to get off this stinking planet at last! Small Bear was right about one thing though, Goth. No more games. Time for you to die."

The small patches of human-like skin and clothing that Johnny could see behind Dark's armor, about the neck and eyes and arm joints, suddenly became black and hairy, and seemed to expand, filling the armored suit beyond it's intended capacity with Dark's bestial werewolf form. The wolf creature ripped off his helmet to expose a canine head, long, fang filled jaws, and red, soulless eyes, and laid back, pointed, canine ears. Then with a mighty roar he charged at Johnny, despite Johnny's best efforts to block him using rocks under his powers.

The armor clad werewolf's charge stalled after only a few steps, as several inch-thick vines wrapped around him, and actually began to pull him away from Johnny. "Ael tou yuama tor! Ael tou yuama tor, feltar," shouted Dooley, using words that echoed his thoughts but imperfectly. More vines moved slowly towards Dark from where they climbed cliff and tree.

As Dark roared in anger, raw energy erupting from his claw tips rapidly burned away the vines. A second blast of pure destructive power erupted from one of his clawed hands and sent Johnny to his knees, even though much of the blast had been absorbed by his watch.

"It's them," exclaimed Elizabeth somewhere behind him, "in the Cube!"

Johnny only had time to glance at the Cube, before dodging a mighty sword blow from Dark, but that one brief moment was enough for him to recognize both his father Mark and his Uncle Mort, standing together in the Cube, pressed against it impotently as they watched him battle Dark.

This was the chance Johnny had been hoping for, a chance that would only last a few minutes, but what could he do? The doppelgangers needed for the exchange were gone, and whatever chance might remain was being stolen by Dark! Still on his knees, Johnny screamed with rage and effort as with all his strength he transported a man-sized boulder weighing half a ton over Dark and dropped it on him.

Instead of crushing the wolf-creature the massive bolder shattered into dozens of pieces as it broke over the monsters' head, which glowed and flashed with power. "No more, human," announced Dark, his voice thunderous. "You die now!"

The creature used his own telekinetic powers on Johnny, such that all Johnny could do is stagger to his feet awkwardly as Dark lifted his sword with both hands and struck downward powerfully, to slice Johnny in two.

Exhausted, Johnny managed to move only a football sized rock above his head as protection but Dark's iron and horn blade came to a clanging stop before even reaching it, as if it had hit an invisible, impenetrable barrier.

"Pru," said Johnny, in surprise and relief, as the glowing spiral horn that had stopped the sword became visible, followed by the rest of the unicorn to which it was attached.

"Impossible!" roared Dark. "No unicorn can stop my blade of iron and unicorn horn!"

"I am not simply a unicorn, evil one, and you are not yet fully an elemental," said Pru coldly. "Creature born of hate; you should have fled when you could." White flame shot from the luminous blue tinted horn, melting the sword from Dark's hands, then cascading over the entire armored wolf-man. The creature wavered but did not fall, though in moments his entire armored suit melted away into smoldering rivulets and glowing white gobs. "You also should not have presumed to attack Baldor."

Dark gathered his singed, smoking, wolfen shape and sprang at Pru, screaming in rage.

A thunderous white blast of energy met the creature in mid-air and slammed him back onto the ground, followed by wave after wave of searing power that surged from Pru's horn into Dark.

Dark's screams of agony were quickly extinguished, as the creature was reduced by Pru's irresistible white flames to a squirming mass of black, then to a shrinking, motionless, formless black cinder, and finally to nothing but a few wisps of smoke that dissipated in the wind. Around him puddles of iron from the armor still glowed red, but hundreds of pure white marbles also covered the ground where Black had last stood.

" _That was as quick and as merciful an end as I could provide him_ ," pathed Pru.

Johnny turned his attention to the Cube. The battle was over, but an equally daunting problem now immediately faced them.

"Those are the right Mark and Mort, Johnny," shouted Elizabeth, who stood near the Cube holding a marker board. "I've been exchanging information with them. But there is only a minute and a half left before the next Cube change, and we have no doppelgangers to exchange for them."

" _Pru, it's up to you and Dooley_ ," pathed Johnny. " _Did the Council agree to let you try_?"

" _No, young Goth, but I overruled them. As you say, this is a matter for me and for our young shaman friend._ " The unicorn lowered its horn until it almost rested on Dooley's shoulder. "Grasp my horn, Tree Talker, and focus on the Cube."

"OK, I been doing some of that already," said Dooley. He grasped the blue glowing, spiral horn in his left hand and reached out towards the Cube with his right hand and with his mind.

In two steps Dooley was touching the Cube's surface. He closed his eyes and further opened his mind to the Cube. Just as he thought, the horn and the Cube wall were very similar. The Cube, however, was radiating something that subtly made Dooley feel stronger and smarter than he had ever felt before, while the unicorn radiated something more like raw power.

" _Help me become as the Cube_ ," said Pru's voice in Dooley's mind.

"Be more like the forest," advised Dooley. "Like trees and animals feel."

" _Yes, I see now_ ," agreed Pru. " _It is what we unicorns do to help forests flourish. But something is missing. I am not strong enough._ "

"She needs the remains of the other unicorns!" Elizabeth said. "It's little parts of her, just like the watches and knives. She scooped handfuls of the glowing white marbles from the ground where Dark had fallen and rushed them to Pru. When she held them against the unicorn's white flank they seemed to simply disappear into her.

Johnny reached out to the hundreds of white marble-like spheres that were still of the ground and willed them to fly to the unicorn, where they also were readily absorbed.

Dooley could feel Pru alter herself as she grew in size and brightness. His hand on the Cube began to tingle, and he thought that there was the tiniest give to the surface. Mort held his hand opposite to his, and mouthing encouragements.

"That's a little too much," said Dooley. "You have to make yourself be a little bit more like a regular unicorn."

" _A bit more like normal matter. Yes, it has been a long time, but I remember how to do this now,"_ pathed Pru. _"As I become whole my memory returns, along with my strength._ "

He felt the change in the unicorn, and then felt it spread into himself.

"That's it," said Dooley, "you and the Cube, you both feel the same." But he was puzzled. He pushed on the Cube with his hand and it still had almost no give. He had expected that when Pru was tuned to the Cube, he would be able to push his hand through to Mort's.

" _You will be able to do so in a moment, Dooley_ ," pathed Pru. " _You must then reach in and grasp Mort and pull him through. You must do it. I must at all costs keep from touching the Cube myself._ "

Suddenly everything around Dooley seemed to dim, except for Pru and the Cube world. At the same time, the Cube wall seemed to completely disappear and the young apprentice shaman found himself reaching freely for Mort's wrist. Mort was still standing at the Cube wall, but Dooley's first attempt failed when his hand passed through Mort's hand as if it were a shadow.

" _Again_!" pathed Pru.

The second time Dooley was easily able to grasp old Mort's wrist and pull him towards Pru. There was resistance for a moment at what must have been the Cube wall, and then Mort and Dooley both tumbled into Johnny, who had recovered somewhat from his battle with Dark and was waiting for them with open arms.

"Hi, Uncle Mort," said Johnny.

"Johnny, you're the answer to our prayers," said his grinning uncle, as he hugged Johnny. "We'll talk later though boy, we have less than a minute to get your dad out."

"Twenty seconds," confirmed Elizabeth. "Reach in again, Dooley."

Dooley and Pru worked even faster in retrieving Mark Goth. With moments to spare Johnny and his father were hugging and laughing, while Ned climbed all over the two of them. Meanwhile Pru slowly moved away from the Cube, though she appeared to be struggling to do so, as if the Cube was trying to pull her to it.

"Mark!" said a familiar female voice.

Mark Goth released Johnny and turned to catch his wife Ann as she ran and leapt into his welcoming arms.

A grinning Great Two Bears had arrived with her, and the big shaman embraced three Goths, parents and son, and lifted them all up and hugged them together in his giant arms, quieting them all for several moments due to their lack of breath.

"It was far too close a thing, all of it," the shaman said soberly, after he had put them down and also greeted his old friends Mort, Dooley and Ned. "Black Knife has the invaders in tow and is escorting them off of Goth land, including Ms Winters. The news media is grilling Fenster about payoffs he gave a county Judge and others in order to accelerate the attempted tree-grab and to ignore the fact that since I live, Small Bear could not have legally spoken for the Tribe when he signed over logging rights to Fenster. Artistic License folks are being hailed as heroes for helping to stop a miscarriage of justice and for providing first aid to loggers, police, and National Guard troops who suffered mostly from superficial bug and animal bites and scratches."

"And of course, Dark is but a bad memory," added Johnny.

"And we have suffered serious losses among some of our animal friends, but we have won, at least for now," concluded the shaman.

" _What made the difference were the next generation shaman and Goth,_ " noted Pru.

"Including Elizabeth, of course," added Great Two Bears.

"Very glad to meet you," said Mark, as he gave Elizabeth a quick hug. "I met several of your counterparts in other worlds, and generally they were very nice. You and Johnny are married?"

"Not quite yet," she replied. "We've been sort of busy." She was amazed at how similar Johnny and his father looked. Mark Goth looked a few pounds heavier and only a decade or so older than Johnny, and sported a mustache, but the resemblance was uncanny.

"This is yours, Dad," said Johnny. He handed the gold watch to his father.

Mark Goth received it with a smile, enclosed it within his big right hand, and gave a little nod to Pru, who was watching attentively. "And this is yours, White Wolf, guardian of Goth Mountain." He opened his hand to reveal not one but two watches, and handed one of them back to a smiling Johnny.

The young Goth examined it eagerly. Pru's likeness was on the front, and his own was on the back, as he expected.

"A grownup Johnny image," noted Mark. "When I saw Small Bear removing Mort's doppelganger from nearby the Cube I realized what had happened to my own all those years ago. Moving the doppelganger bodies away from the Cube and putting them near the One Tree was Small Bear's way of both getting rid of us and incriminating the People. I have to admit that I thought we were both lost forever, watches and all."

"It took a re-assembled Pru and a legion of Dooleys to finally get to you," said Johnny.

"Tons of Dooleys," noted the grinning apprentice shaman.

"I feel so guilty," said Ann, looking into Mark's eyes. "If I had not given up so quickly, you could have been home years ago."

"I'm just happy to be home now," said Mark. "Very happy. It is more likely that years ago you would have also lost yourself in other universes. Mort had many of the answers but he got lost anyway, due largely to the betrayal by Small Bear."

"We could all share in such guilt, and it would all be misplaced," said Two Bears. "There is one who may deserve the most blame but has paid a terrible price for his hate." He bent over the bloody body of his nephew Small Bear, retrieved a gold watch, and after wiping it clean from blood on his shirt returned it to old Mort.

"Small Bear hid his hate so long and so well that even as he shot me, I could not comprehend what was happening. He truly had powers, but he hid them and used them for evil, and was always withdrawn and sullen. Thinking back, all the warning hints were there, if only I had looked closely enough." A big tear ran down one of his weathered cheeks.

"If only any of us had," echoed Mort. "But we aren't any of us perfect, not by a long shot."

" _True, humans_ ," agreed Pru. " _Not even unicorns. But it would be a dull existence if there were any such thing as perfection. We can all only strive towards what we imagine it to be._ "

"That was wisely said," volunteered Elizabeth. "I'm not even officially a Tribe member yet, and he did try to kill me more than once, but I think Small Bear should get a full Tribal funeral, whatever that is."

"I agree," said Johnny.

A hint of a smile flickered across Two Bear's sad face as he nodded his own agreement.

"And Baldor too," added Dooley.

" _I would prefer not to be buried,_ " pathed a voice that ended in a whinny. " _At least not yet._ " On the path coming up the mountain strode Baldor, whole and glowing with health. He even sported a glowing horn!

Equally astonishing, an exuberant Professor Fred Simple sat high upon the huge mythical creature's back. "Something came over me at the cabin," Fred explained. "I had an impulse to walk into the woods, resulting in my finding the remains of my friend here. I wanted to see what the whole creature had looked like, and I started fitting him together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"Part way through, he started talking to me in my head. To make a long story short, here we are, and Dooley and I are to go to the place where he comes from to meet more of his folks. An old academic friend of mine named Gus is going to collaborate with me on translating some mysterious ancient tablets, and someone named Gor is supposed to talk with us about building a log house on Goth Mountain for me and Dooley. Oh, and there will be several berry pies involved also, I'm told."

" _It is well that this one found me when he did_ ," pathed Baldor to all those who could hear. " _My remaining life force was dwindling_."

Pru whinny-laughed, and Dooley hooted in surprise as he floated through the air and onto her back. " _It is well than that I placed the thought in Doc Simple's mind to perform the rescue,_ " Pru pathed to everyone, as she trotted to join the great stallion and his plump little passenger. " _We'll visit the Land now with the Simples, and be back soon_."

When the two unicorns met they stood for some time with heads and horns pressing and rubbing together, silver-gold tails and manes thrashing, and horns glowing bright as flashes of lightning danced between them. By some unknown empathic effect, the whole area seemed to be flooded with happiness, increasing even further the grins of the humans present. Finally, with the Simples on their backs, the two unicorns lightly pranced past the One Tree and disappeared into the solid rock of Goth Mountain.

With the departure of the effervescent unicorns and Simples the mood again sobered. Two Bears, the Goths and the future Mrs. Johnny Goth picked up the bloody body of Small Bear and solemnly carried it down the mountain, their victories and joyful reunions sobered by both his loss and the bitterness of his betrayal.

****

CHAPTER 33

AFTERWARD

Johnny and Elizabeth Goth stood in front of the solid wall of rock that they had erected to cover the Cube. The Cube location could now not be easily detected, since the wall looked very much like the rest of the mountainside. At a gesture of Johnny's hand a five-hundred pound rock pulled out of the wall and floated to the ground, creating a three-foot square window to the Cube and another universe.

On schedule, the window shimmered and the scene changed, to reveal a doppelganger Johnny Goth that smiled at them and nodded in greeting. Dozens of Dooleys had eliminated the force that pulled like-beings into the Cube to exchange doppelgangers, so they had little fear of becoming exchanged, although as a safety precaution they were all tethered by ropes to nearby trees. With the exception of lost Elizabeths and others being returned to their proper universes by a multi-universe team of Dooleys, physical exchanges via the Cube had been eliminated.

Each Johnny placed a laptop PC in their own window such that the screens and built-in cameras faced into the other's universe. Information exchange between universes had grown significantly.

"So how was the wedding?" asked the doppelganger, smiling, as the PC used voice recognition software to translate his question and both display and mechanically voice the words to Johnny and Elizabeth.

"Great, including my name change to Shining Moon," replied Elizabeth. "And the honeymoon in the Holy Forest was even better."

The doppelganger laughed, causing a jumble of gobbley-gook to fill the next line of the computer screens. "On this side we've been busy trying to address the scientific implications of what we have recently learned."

"And what are your totally geeky conclusions?" asked Elizabeth.

"Dad and I published a paper that unifies space-time-gravity and quantum mechanics concepts. Also, negative and positive time concepts as suggested by the wave equation and its complex conjugate are interpreted as reflecting a balancing point that locally defines 'now', supporting a reasonable transactional interpretation of quantum events and the sensibility of our macroscopic perceptions and common-sense notions such that trees do indeed fall in the forest when nobody is looking and so forth."

"In English please," requested Elizabeth, taking advantage of a slight pause. "Please translate what you just said!"

The doppelganger Johnny laughed again. "But that WAS the English translation! In summary we've done some really good stuff, science-wise. Ironically though, some scientists are already interpreting our theory as the end of any need for notions of multiple universes."

"I suppose that you couldn't reveal to your scientist friends that you happen to know that multiple universes actually do exist," stated Johnny.

"Of course we couldn't, since we still must keep the Cube secret. Multiple universes obviously exist, but not necessarily as a means of interpreting quantum mechanics. So far there doesn't seem to be any solid theoretical requirement for them to exist or not exist."

"Or for unicorns to exist either, I'll wager," noted Johnny.

"Correct. Your particular universe and its unique inhabitants remain a unique mystery within the over-all enigma."

" _It certainly is an enigma_ ," Johnny pathed to Elizabeth.

" _I agree_ ," Elizabeth pathed in reply. " _The more we learn, the deeper some of the mysteries seem._ " She smiled at the doppelganger Johnny Goth. "But we wouldn't have it any other way."

After their conversation with the scientist doppelganger Johnny ended, Johnny replaced the Cube-covering rock and he and his wife Elizabeth walked hand-in-hand slowly down Goth Mountain together. As they walked Johnny silently marveled at how much his life had changed over the last two months since his return to Goth Mountain. He hardly ever thought of cardboard boxes or Angela. Together he and Dooley were happily learning deeper knowledge and skills from Mark and Mort Goth, from Great Two Bears, and from each other.

Johnny and the other humans of Goth Mountain also had continuing contacts with the People. Grog and several of his giant friends visited Goth Mountain to help build Johnny and Elizabeth their own massive log cabin, and to build a fine house for the Simples in the forest nearby. Both Ned and Fen became frequent visitors to Goth Mountain and to the Tribe, and to Elizabeth's classroom, much to the delight of the students.

There were also infrequent visits from the mysterious Pru. Exactly what had Pru meant when she had told Dark that she was not simply a unicorn? Was Dark really once one of the People? How old was Pru, really? Where did she and the People come from? Why had Pru carefully avoided passing through the Cube while retrieving Dad and Mort? Why were psychic powers commonplace in all universes except their own? Pru couldn't or wouldn't answer such questions. "Perhaps there are things you should learn for yourself, Wolf Cub," she had told him, in an amused tone of voice.

The answers to many mysteries were unexpectedly revealed one day as Johnny and Elizabeth visited the Great Tree. " _The mystery of the origin of the Cube and the People has been solved_ ," pathed Pru as she suddenly appeared before the startled couple.

"We thought you'd like to know," said Gus, from where he sat perched high upon Pru's back.

"That's tremendous news!" exclaimed Johnny.

"So tell us about it," insisted Elizabeth.

"In a nutshell, Doc Simple finished translating those three mysterious metal tablets, and more of Pru's memory came back, due to her absorption of many of her missing parts from Dark's armor," explained Gus. "But it's a good news-bad news-good news thing. Surprisingly, two very different stories have emerged."

"Two?"

"Yes. The tablets outline a history of the People and the Cube. They indicate that using the Cube, the ancestors of the People came to visit and explore Earth approximately twelve thousand years ago and never left. Pru here is their fancy automated companion that they relied on for just about everything, including keeping track of history and controlling the Cube. She's some kind of advanced technology; an inorganic life form."

"If they only came for a visit why did they stay?" asked Johnny.

" _The tablets state that the big problem arose when one of our organic units decided to stay here and transform into a creature of power that would ravage the Earth,_ " pathed Pru.

"Dark!" guessed Elizabeth.

" _True, small one_ ," pathed Pru. " _The tablets state that at the time parts of me were dispersed widely among the explorers, much as today you carry watches and knives that are small parts of me. When Dark started murdering his companions, as a precaution I managed to move the Cube to Goth Mountain, hide it, and put it into a standby mode that prevented its normal use._

"Dark went on killing, but my role was passive due to strict limits built into me. Being pacifist, the People were largely defenseless for many centuries, and Dark soon acquired enough of my components to disable many of my key functions, including Cube control. The tablets indicate that at some point when I tried to regain control of it, I unintentionally activated access to parallel universes and the exchange of doppelgangers. To fix things, and recover doppelgangers to their proper universes, the tablets indicate that my entry into the Cube is required."

"Wow," said Johnny, "that would save the Dooleys of the multiverse a lot of work. Are you going to do it?"

" _Unlikely, Johnny Goth,"_ replied the unicorn. _"Fortunately I always harbored a deep-felt aversion to personally entering the Cube, which is fortunate for reasons that I will divulge shortly. The tablets indicate that the primary defense of the People became hiding from Dark and keeping the Cube from him. Generations lived and died. Gradually memories that the People had of their origins faded, though early on some information had been recorded by People and preserved in the tablets that have now been translated. Meanwhile it appears that Dark grew ever more powerful, and remained obsessed with consuming unicorns and acquiring the Cube, for reasons that perhaps he did not himself remember._ "

"Meanwhile patterns were established among the People who survived, including traditional forms to take, relationships with the Tribe, and so-forth," guessed Johnny.

"That's about it in a nutshell," agreed Gus.

" _Gradually we unicorns did somewhat increase our interactions with humans, but not to the extent that we would reveal ourselves outside the Tribe and the Goths_ ," added Pru. _"To some degree we adapted many traits of Earthlings. For example many of us took the form of Sasquatch, creatures that are now unfortunately extinct. The tablets indicate that based on human myths, I took the form of a unicorn, and using parts of myself created a small herd of other unicorns to try to both protect the People from Dark and to keep me company."_

"Anyway that's what the tablets say," said Gus. "The idea was mainly to hide from Dark."

" _We underestimated Dark. He killed still more unicorns and I lost more abilities and memories. My impediments to killing him were finally overcome than he destroyed Baldor, and when he threatened to destroy humans and the rest of the People. Over the years I had evidently developed into a free-thinking individual, free enough to kill him._ "

"You can control the Cube again," noted Elizabeth. "You could enter the Cube and use it to all go home now, wherever home is."

" _I was seriously considering exactly that_ ," admitted Pru. " _The tablets indicate that by entering the Cube I would remember our home world. I would then be able to teach the People about our home world. In summary if I were to simply enter the Cube I would be fully restored and capable of saving all the People._ "

"If you leave here in the Cube the Tribe will lose their Holy Forest," noted Johnny.

"And humanity would lose the opportunity of contact with an extraterrestrial species," added Elizabeth.

The unicorn shook her head. _"I will not be entering the Cube. An alternative history has emerged from my own restored memories."_

Elizabeth frowned. "Do you speak now of the second version of the story which was mentioned earlier?"

"Right; here comes the bad news part," inserted Gus.

" _Yes,_ " said Pru. " _As cogent and compelling as the tablet-based story I have just related to you is, much of it is lies._ "

"What!" Johnny responded in astonishment as Pru laughed her unicorn laugh.

"The truth is even more surprising, I'm afraid. The tablets are a deception, part of what you humans would call a backup plan created by Dark. The tablets were planted near the Cube by Dark only days ago; placed so that they would soon be found. I wasn't ever supposed to regain enough memory to remember the truth. If dark failed to destroy me and enter my remains into the Cube, his back-up plan was that I would at some point read the tables and enter the Cube under my own power."

"Parts of the tablets are fiction? You didn't all arrive on Earth twelve thousand years ago?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dark arrived here on Earth with the Cube twelve thousand years ago, but unicorns and the People have been here for far longer. I have personally been here on Earth for hundreds of millions of years, actually. The other unicorns and the People are essentially my creations."

Johnny shook his head in denial.

_"I don't blame you for perhaps having doubts,"_ Pru stated.

"Like they say, truth is stranger than fiction," said Gus.

_"So what is the truth as you remember it, Pru?"_ asked Johnny.

_"The Cube indeed arrived on Earth with Dark twelve thousand years ago, but unicorns and People were already here,"_ stated Pru. _"I was already weakened greatly by other events, and Dark took advantage of that and attacked the remaining unicorns immediately. He indeed successfully hunted down several unicorns before his presence and that of the Cube even became known. While I still retained some of my powers I managed to move the Cube. My attempt to destroy it using the volcano failed and the Cube continued to function, but the Cube and most of the People for a long time remained successfully hidden from Dark."_

"Meanwhile the Cube stimulated life and performed doppelganger exchanges," noted Elizabeth.

"Those were meant to attract victims and entice Pru to confront and enter the Cube, as suggested by the tablets," said Gus.

_"Dark did manage to further damage my memory by acquiring more elements of myself and he carried out much of his plan"_ continued Pru. _"If he hadn't been stopped, he may have eventually destroyed the Land and human civilization, but his ultimate purpose was to acquire me. Either I would by my own power enter the Cube or he would move my remains into the Cube."_

"Why?" Johnny asked.

"The Cube is essentially a unicorn trap," said Gus. "Dark was sent here to attack unicorns."

"Yes, for I'm afraid there is a deeper story," explained Pru. "There is a powerful off-Earth Enemy from my distant past that seeks to destroy all unicorns and me in particular. Dark was sent to capture and perhaps transport or destroy unicorns using the Cube, though unicorns are not the ultimate target. Now that Dark has failed, the Enemy may try something else."

"What can we do to help?" asked Johnny.

Pru again laughed. _"Nothing for now, Johnny Goth, except to stay vigilant. You humans have been critical in saving me and yourselves for the time-being. It took many millennia for the Enemy to find and attack me using his tools Dark and the Cube, it could be many human life-times before he again attacks."_

"That's the other good news," explained Gus. "The conflict referred to is taking place over many millions of years. Though the Enemy could attack again within our lifetimes, it is more likely that Earth will be hit by an asteroid.

"Ah, I'm not sure that's good enough to qualify as truly good news," said Johnny.

"You said that even you unicorns aren't your enemy's ultimate target," said Elizabeth. "Then who or what is?"

The unicorn again whinny-laughed. _"That is information far too dangerous even for my closest friends to know, Elizabeth. Both the Enemy and his target are dangerous secrets that I need to keep to myself. I truly hope that the time will never come when I need burden you with such information, for that would indicate a need for very dangerous quests assisted by my human friends."_

All of this intrigued Johnny, but the enigmatic unicorn provided no further details. _"Quests can wait for now, human,"_ assured the unicorn. _"Be content with our victory over Dark and over the hate and greed of your human enemies. Now you have more important matters to attend to."_

"The upshot is that we all get to live happily ever after," said Gus. "That's pretty darn good news, I'd say." With that Pru and Gus disappeared.

Indeed, Johnny clearly did have important things to do. At a particularly scenic point along the ancient path that led down Goth Mountain, he stopped walking and pulled Elizabeth to him, for she was by far his greatest source of happiness and wonder. As they embraced and kissed they shared thoughts and feelings, while a swirling kaleidoscope of love and happiness surged between them and echoed and flooded over into the Holy Forest. He gently placed a hand over her belly to better sense the greatest miracle of all: new lives growing within her. " _So, Momma Shining Moon, how are they doing?_ " he pathed.

" _The twins are both fine, Papa White Wolf, as I'm sure you can see for yourself. They're growing like weeds._ "

Johnny smiled. " _I wouldn't have it any other way._ "

The End

****

About the Author and Other Publications

If you enjoyed this novel, please return to Smashwords.com or an affiliated E-book distributer to discover short stories and other novels by this author, including the sequel to Secrets of Goth Mountain titled Government Men.

Born in Erie, PA, I am a recently retired engineer with degrees in physics. For nearly forty years I worked for the DOD/Navy and then for a federally funded research and development center (FFRDC). I took up writing as a hobby about two decades ago, for no good reasons that I can think of. My usually sensible wife and my two daughters allowed me to do it, for no good reasons that they can think of. I have also published flute music. Still, I am not 'the artist' of the family; that distinction perhaps more aptly belongs to my brother Robert, who often helps with my book-covers.

My first published novel is Blue Dawn Jay of Aves, a traditional science fiction story of a distant planet inhabited by giant song-loving sentient birds that is being colonized by humans. It was written in response to my appreciation for birds, birders, music, and song. The birder in my family is my daughter Kristin, who teaches college in Queens, NYC; the music lover and most dedicated reader of the family is my daughter Kim, a school psychologist in New Jersey. I'm incredibly proud of both of them.

The novel Government Men is the first written and the most complex and ambitious work, and will be published sometime in the next few months. The unlikely hero is an inept DOD civilian scientist who leads an effort to save Earth from an impending alien-induced apocalypse. The large cast includes mythical, supernatural, scientific, and alien characters, as well as an unlikely reincarnation of the author. Perhaps still more unusual, the novel is also included within itself. Pru, the unicorn featured in Secrets of Goth Mountain, plays a central role in Government Men, along with Johnny and Dooley. As with The Shrinking Nut Case, this was written as a 'fun' novel.

For a fun quirky tale about a somewhat unlikable private detective dealing with ultimate shrinkage, elves and other nasty visitors from a parallel dimension, the mob, and a talking cat, read the noir-tinged novel The Shrinking Nuts Case.

For a diverse collection of twenty Twilight-Zone-like fantasy and science fiction short stories, download There Goes the Neighborhood; Earthly Fantasy/Science Fiction Short Stories.

All of my published works (so far) are of full-length novel size; I wouldn't generally waste the time of readers with anything less. Anything I do publish that is less than novel-length will be free. In addition I avoid graphic depictions of sex and violence and tend to steer towards positive outcomes. I also insist that stories be plausible, though magic can be plausible. The other thing I insist upon in a work is closure. Though my works often hint at adventures to come, all of them are self-contained and reach essential closure within one volume. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Reviewers my note that this revised second release of Secrets of Goth Mountain contains some 'clean up' type corrections and brighter lettering on the cover but no fundamental changes. My thanks go to Rista of Goodreads for the thoughtful review that led to this re-release.

Gary J. Davies, Mechanicsville, Maryland, March 2014
