Part 9 (1/2)

”I'm sorry,” Claude said. ”That was rather insensitive of me.”

”No,” Deem said. ”I know where you're coming from. That's what every girl my age is expected to do. It's just that my father never said those kinds of things to me.”

”I'm not being fair,” Claude said. ”I'm afraid I've let my prejudices against the church show through. Your father may not have talked about this balance between the gift and the church because you're a woman, but he had other reasons, too. Reasons that were probably more influential to his thinking.”

”Like what?” Deem asked.

”I believe that local, influential, gifted Mormons like your father are part of a secret council,” Claude said. ”They operate in private, away from the eyes of Salt Lake or anyone else, for that matter. Your father was likely part of this council. If so, he took an oath that would have kept him from talking to you about it.”

Deem was stunned. She didn't know if Claude was spouting a crazy conspiracy theory or the truth.

”How do you know this?” Deem asked.

”I can't say,” Claude answered. ”I have to protect the people who keep me informed. But I have, in my files here, plenty of evidence that makes me confident.”

”What do you know about this council?” Winn asked.

”It's made up of gifted Mormons who've achieved higher ranks in the church,” Claude said. ”There's not many of them, but they banded together years ago for support. They have their own organization, with their own officers. All men, of course. And they take an oath of secrecy. Just as none of them would ever break their temple oaths, these people would never break their council oaths, either. So Dayton was never going to tell you anything. He's bound not to. Don't take it personally.”

Deem found it hard to process. Her father was part of a secret organization? It seemed incredible.

”It's very possible that his journals, if he kept them,” Claude said, ”are the property of the secret council. What he wrote in them might contain things you wouldn't be allowed to see, even though you're his heir and by rights you should have them. You're not part of the council. And because you're a woman, you never will be.”

Deem sat stunned.

”I think I already know the answer to this question,” Winn said, ”but do you have anything to back this up? Any kind of proof?”

”Oh, plenty,” Claude said. ”But digging it out to show people is a waste of time. People believe what they want to believe, proof or not. I believe my sources. Whether or not you believe them is up to you.”

”I just...” Deem said, halting. ”...just find it so hard to believe.”

”What, that there's a secret group of Mormons with the gift?” Claude said. ”If you're gifted, as you claim, I expect you've seen some incredible things in your time, stuff that other people would find unbelievable. Am I right?”

”That's true,” Winn said. ”Stuff we don't discuss with other people because they'd think we're crazy.”

”Welcome to my world,” Claude said, rising up out of his overstuffed chair. ”Listen, this is going to bounce around in your head for a while. You'll decide it's true, then it's bullpucky, and back and forth. That's what always happens.”

He walked to the filing cabinet and pulled their phones out of the box. ”Once you realize that a group of secret Mormons isn't so implausible in light of the ghosts and other weird stuff you normally deal with, you'll want to talk to me again. So I'm gonna give you my phone number.”

He handed Deem and Winn their phones and then walked to his desk, where he scribbled a number on a piece of paper. ”If you decide that I'm not just an old man sitting here throwing c.r.a.p against the walls, give me a call.”

He handed the paper to Deem, who took it. She stood, and extended her hand.

”That just spreads germs,” Claude said. ”How about a pat on the back?”

Deem smiled and turned her back to Claude. He gave her three quick slaps. They walked to the door.

”You both be careful about telling other people what I've told you today,” Claude said. ”I don't broadcast about the secret council. Lots of people around here take oaths very seriously and I'm already in enough trouble with the town. And please don't share my phone number with anyone.”

”I won't,” Deem said. ”I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, even though I'm not sure what most of it means.”

”Keep in mind,” Claude said, ”if you decide to pursue this, it's dangerous. It's worth some serious thinking before you go any further.”

”Why do you do this?” Deem asked as she opened the door. ”If it's risky, why would you help me?”

”'Cause you're being lied to,” Claude said, ”and I hate that. I don't call it 'The Hour of Truth' for nothing.”

Chapter Five.

After leaving Claude's, Deem drove to the abandoned house south of Mesquite to see Sagan. She parked her truck just off the road by the house, and she and Winn walked to the back. The wind had picked up and was blowing sand. Deem tried to cover her face with her hand.

Winn lifted the plywood covering and descended into the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”Sagan!” Winn called, dropping into the River.

Sagan appeared, hunkered in a corner.

There you are, Winn said, walking over to him. Well? Did you track him?

Yes, Sagan said, I know where he lives. But my price has gone up.

What do you mean? Winn asked.

I mean, Sagan said, standing up to face Winn, the guy you had me track was a f.u.c.ked up skinwalker. You didn't mention that.

What's his name? Winn asked.

I want double, Sagan said.

Don't be ridiculous, Winn said. That wasn't our deal.

I don't care, Sagan said. If you want to know who it is, I want double.

So I offered you a dozen corpses, Winn said. You want two dozen?

Yes, Sagan said, and I want your word that if he or his creator decides to attack me, you'll defend me.

Why would he attack you? Winn said. Did you f.u.c.k up? Did he see you?

No, Sagan said. I don't think so. But I saw his place, and he's seriously twisted. And he doesn't act like a normal skinwalker, he's faster. Whoever made him is a powerful motherf.u.c.ker, and I don't want to anger the guy.

Alright, Winn said. Two dozen corpses, but that's it.

Sagan eyed him suspiciously. No, I want protection, he said. If this comes back on me, I expect you two to help me out.

You're a Caller, Deem said. Why would you need our help?