He shrugged and smiled. I smiled.We understood each other.It had to come. He weakened with the turning of the seasons. There was nothing I could do. We spoke of it and discussed his coming time.He thanked me for the distraction. I thanked him for his lessons and care. It was understood that we thanked each other for our love. I stayed with him until the end. I called the others and we honored him in death, in a bower high among the trees. We took turns drumming for his spirit. Before the ceremony ended, I was brought before the eldest remaining shaman and given my name. I learned that each of us has a name, the same as all the others. We call ourselves one alone. My shaman name would be child of bear. My public name would be sharp blade. I was a shaman at eighteen. The drink I had been given for the ceremony gave me a fever. I took to my bed for several days. When I rose I felt different--lighter somehow. I could see things I could not before.Each animal and person had a light about. Arson needed to be established as quickly as possible to implicate the missing girl and even though the ladder had melted, a trained investigator would have no problem telling what it was.It hadn't taken long to get the truth. Jamie really is a bad girl when you piss her off, and she was really, really pissed at these two. We had learned a few other things along the way. One was all we really needed for our purposes; turned out Andrews was afraid of spiders.Detective Nicholas Charles was awakened suddenly by a man's scream. Sitting up in bed he heard the unmistakable sounds of his partner thrashing around trying to extricate himself from the sheets which entangled him. What he wasn't ready for was the way the man was slapping at himself; he appeared to be trying to knock something off. If he could have seen what Andrews saw he would have understood.Carl Andrews stood over the sleeping form of thirteen year old Bethany Martinson. In one gloved hand he held an eight-inch boning knife.
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