Hearts of the Missing_A Mystery by Carol Potenza

Author:Carol Potenza [Potenza, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1250178282
Amazon: B079DWH5XX
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2018-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Howard let the tips of his blue-powdered fingers brush the cop’s jacket before he darted into the Blessing Ceremony crowd. It was like he glided through the tsa’atsi, so fast no one could see him. He pivoted to see if the lady cop had noticed, and bumped into a bishbiina, a Sky-Bird person, which knocked his own mask askew. All he could see now was down. The forked branch he’d stuck into the hole near his left ear sagged and he stopped unsteadily to twist it back in place, then righted the mask.

His chest swelled with euphoria. Free. Out of hiding, but still hiding. The chill air deep in his lungs made him part of the night, the tiny stones that poked through the soles of his moccasins made him an extension of the earth. He wanted to yell and chant and dance because whoever had been tracking him—including Sergeant Matthews—would not know him. He was not Howard now, but the sum of his ancestors. Part of those who lived in his family’s kəətsi mask.

People streamed around him as he swayed on the road, invisible. But they weren’t people, they were hanutra. Sucking in a great, happy sigh, he smelled the mud and wood and stink of antelope hide that made up his mask. Breathed in the essence of his father and grandfather and all his fathers from the Beginning. From naha’aya. From the Day before Yesterday. He did it again. His chest inflated, absorbed the power of them. It was the feeling of belonging.

Part of it was the beer he’d drunk. A whole six-pack, and quick. It also gave him courage and fleetness. His clan was Antelope. Nothing could catch him. Nothing.

Howard rotated his head slowly and the light from the streetlamp turned the eyeholes into binoculars as he searched for her. He squinted. His glasses would not fit under the mask, so some things were blurry.

She was over there, with those other cops. Not other cops. The others weren’t cops. One of them was from his class at high school. Savannah Analla. She’d always been nice to him. But she was nice to everybody. She walked away with that Chishe—Apache—kid. That guy had never been nice to him.

The drums and rattles sounded and tingles ran over his skin. It was time for the blessing. It was time to fool the fools, but he had to be careful. The war chiefs had spies everywhere.

As he hurried through the crowd, he took one more opportunity to brush Sergeant Matthews’s clothes with his hand. The blue powder and paint would leave the mark of the Sky Clan on her. His own blessing? Maybe.

He’d marked her car, too, when she’d parked, so he would know where to leave his gift for her. His payback for the Flamin’ Hot Fritos she’d pinned on the door of the adobe. His payback for finding him.

Howard wrinkled his forehead and his skin rubbed against little bumps on the interior of the mask. Sergeant Matthews found him—even though he’d swept—which meant she was not evil.

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