Excerpt

"Damn crows!" the old man muttered with surprising energy.

"It’s a strange day…" Matt agreed. "Maybe there’s a storm brewing. Where’s that radio we got to monitor the weather?"

"Matt!" His grandfather began, his tone conveying a sudden seriousness. "There’s something you must know. Something I’ve been putting off telling you. Nothing ever happened in all these years… I thought it was safe now. I thought maybe it was a lie… an old man’s nonsense, after all."

"Grandpa, you alright?"

"I have failed my father and his before him." The crows bunched together, darting in and out of the brush.

"You're tired. Come on, let me get you inside."

"How many crows are there?" The old man’s voice demanded. "How many?"

Matt searched out the birds his grandfather saw. One, two, three… "Looks like five… No, make that six crows. Just six crows flying around. Maybe you need to go lie down on the bed for a while?"

"Things are happening, Matt!" His grandfather never raised his voice, yet somehow it conveyed the sound of thunder rumbling in the distant hills. "I had hoped I would never have to tell anyone what my father told me, secrets his father had told him. Secrets that go all the way back, longer than memory – longer than these hills. Things are happening, though. Too many things and I am afraid you need to know the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth about who we are," his grandfather motioned for him to sit. "You have spent most of your life running away in anger from your family, and to be honest, we weren’t always the best of families. Your father, for instan–"

"My father was a drunk!" Matt was surprised at the anger that seeped into that brief statement. After all these years, there was still so much vitriol.

"Matt, you don’t understand what your father had to deal with as a child."

"My father was a weak-willed drunk who took the easy way out and left his family to suffer the consequences. That’s what drinking did to him!"

"No, Matt," his grandfather countered softly, "That is what I did to him. Dragging him out to help me fight the evil when he wasn’t ready and I only half-believed the old tales myself. Our line was an ancient one with a single task to do over and over throughout the years. All we had to do was stand guard. When we saw the evil begin to wake, we performed the ritual."

"Come on, grandpa. You know I don’t buy into any tribal medicine man crap!"

Ben Yellow Wolf ignored his grandson, "Only one thing to do, and I messed that up. So, your father ended up paying the highest price for my mistake. You see, as a child, my own father was killed during the first World War and I had been a poor pupil of his; I was a lot like you. I didn’t believe anything he said about our purpose – and the hotel."

"The hotel?" Matt queried. A strange sense of foreboding began to stir.

"My father had fought the evil there before the with the help of a local woman. Part of me really thought it was all some silly story. So, that’s how I raised your father. My crime was to rob him of his past, to take from him the meaning of his life and leave him an empty husk. It is no wonder that he drank himself to death, Matt. I am to blame."

"There is no way you are responsible. Don’t talk this way."

"Matt, there is only one way to convince you of what I say. I wish there was another because this is not easy." He fished an object from his pocket and held open his hand for Matt to take it.
It was a small flask, a miniature clay canteen, which hung from a cord like a necklace. Matt took it into his hand, noting the glyph on its surface that depicted a strange, hulking beast. Unusual scribbling snaked along the edges of the unusual vessel, which felt cold in his hands.

"I just hope," began the old man, "that it is not too late."

Excerpt

In trench CM-5, at Ennis Mound – one of the many smaller Corvus Mounds, which had been spared looters eighty years before – Karen carefully brushed loose soil from the clay pot, revealing details of a shaman effigy. After taking a series of shots in-situ with her digital medium format camera, Karen worked carefully to remove the vessel from the surrounding matrix.

Unlike the meticulously painted wares of the southwest cultures, the Moundbuilders formed simpler vessels with little ornamentation. One of the few exceptions were the artfully-wrought effigies resembling deities from the native pantheon: turtles, frogs, and various birds. Wrapping around the jar she now held in her hands was an effigy fashioned to resemble a holy man holding up a smaller vessel. Karen admired these pieces the most. They were compelling evidence for her argument of a strong Mesoamerican influence on the Mississippian culture – not arising from trade or proximity, though. Karen’s theory was that an older culture influenced both.

As she excavated the mounds, she kept finding vague but tantalizing clues that something was missing; an important piece of the puzzle was gone. There were also indications that a larger mound had once existed in service to some kind of death cult. Karen felt certain that if she could find and excavate the remains of a lost mound, she would have her answers.

She quickly finished jotting down measurements in her field book and then placed the vessel carefully into a carton for further lab work. As she turned back to replace the marker flag that would designate the exact spot from which the pot was removed, a dull glint caught her eye.
Grabbing a soft brush, Karen began gently removing the loose soil from where the pot once sat.

"This has got to be some kind of joke!" Karen stared for several long moments in astonishment at the artifact she had just revealed. It was quite unmistakably a sword, perhaps two and a half feet long with a small, intricately carved golden hilt. The blade widened along the center in an style similar to the Hurrians, a culture that predated the Babylonians and may have been among the first to populate the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

Site contamination? She wondered. God knows those pot hunters weren’t the most careful lot. A joke? Reynolds! I bet it was Reynolds. He’s been teasing me about my fascination with…

Even as she rationalized, Karen knew it was none of those scenarios. This particular mound had never been excavated before and Reynolds may love to joke but he was too professional to risk site contamination for a few laughs. The gilded sword before her was very real and very disturbing; no such weapon was known to the Moundbuilders. Even a cursory glance told her its style and construction were unlike anything in the New World.

Panic bolted through her for a brief moment. Contamination could call into question everything they had worked for at Corvus Mound. Karen quickly photographed, mapped, and annotated the find before removing the sword. She would need to keep a tight lid on this until she could get in touch with Dr. Welston, the project head and chief curator of archaeology at the University museum.

Excerpt

Death wore a gray hooded sweatshirt when he rudely jostled Shade Hoffmeyer on the sagging old porch before striding blissfully down the damp Seattle street. He only touched her in a psychic sense but the reality of it was so powerful, she staggered awkwardly from the impact nonetheless.

Righting herself once more, Shade (who never went by her tortured given name, Roberta) brushed several errant strands of long, dark hair from her face. She was twenty-three, and beneath her dark, gothic appearance, quite beautiful.

Unlike most who donned similar attire, Shade was not all ennui and bad vampire novels. She possessed complicated layers that not even her most intimate acquaintances knew. She cultivated the look more for the sheer surprise factor than anything else. In all, a childish and silent rebellion, she would often acknowledge – but terribly fun.

A cybergoth, Shade’s style was less musty old tomes than a laptop and the customized, hand-held electronic assistant kept in her pocket at all times. Spending most days writing software for a video game company, Shade programmed the PDA so it could access gigabytes of arcane knowledge as well as the latest Internet downloads.

Now, stepping down from the old porch, her thoughts were far from random. She walked into the soft mist, heedless of the dampness drizzling down upon her. She was intent only upon seeing the figure as he disappeared from view.

Turning swiftly, Shade surprised the two detectives waiting on the porch. She had a sudden vision of herself as she must look to the two men: long, wet hair, black biker boots, and a B-52’s tee shirt clinging damply to her chest. She gathered her floor length coat around her like a cloak and hurried inside.

Had the others been able to see the man she had watched in her mind’s eye, he would have seemed like just another lanky young man with no cares, scarcely worth noticing. There was a spring to his step as he whistled a lively, off-key tune. He was in good spirits because he had just done some of his most satisfying work in the small bungalow.

However, in his wake, he left fuming black footprints that none but she could see. Each step seemed to flare and sizzle before dissolving into vapor. The images were vivid and coming at her with great speed: manifestations of both the man’s nature and his actions. She knew this from past experience but she could also sense the remnants of his mood as well as his mind. This one was strong; wherever this man walked, he would leave a trail of death.

TULSA TV REPORTER WRITES CONTROVERSIAL BOOK

By Emily Laurel, Staff Writer Tulsa World

Emmy-nominated KCFB Channel 6 reporter, Skyler Dunworth-Michaels, has stirred up a mound of controversy with her book, Murder at the Mound, due out later this month. The work chronicles Dunworth-Michael’s sojourn through the now-infamous events that took place at the Montford Arms Hotel in the sleepy Oklahoma hamlet of Corvus Mound.

The work, however, is not without its critics. Matt Wolf, President of Renovations Inc., the Chicago-based firm contracted to renovate the hotel, has already filed an injunction, alleging misrepresentation. The millionaire, Richard Donaldson, Jr., has also told Hollywood Reporters that he, too, is considering a libel suit based upon his portrayal by Dunworth-Michaels. Jason Williams, of the Lousiana State Police, has also filed charges against the reporter for false representation and intent to defraud. "I was there," Williams told this reporter, "[Dunworth-Michaels] paints herself in a very favorable light and the rest of us look like idiots. I can’t let her get away with that."

Dunworth-Michaels alleges that those injured during the incident were intentionally and callously placed in harm's way to help the fading careers of noted Television psychic, Cookie Daniels, and to protect the financial interests of both Renovations, Inc. and Richard Donaldson. Dunworth-Michaels intimates that it was Donaldson's paranoid use of impregnable glass and unproven automated security locks that trapped them inside and led to several deaths.

The attorney representing Mr. Wolf stated, "She is free to make all the allegations she wants, but she will have to back up those claims. I feel confident that it is her own fading career, and now her book sales, that are at the root of these stories."

Dunworth-Michaels will be in Tulsa later this summer to sign copies of her book.

IT'S COMING...

New Talent Sends Local Firm to New Heights

Chicago Business Daily

March 21, 2005

"Renovations Inc., a Chicago based firm specializing in historic restorations, announces that Matt Wolf will be joining the firm with the New Year. Wolf, winner of Restored Magazine's prestigious Silver Award for creative use of original materials has been a junior architect with New Orleans-based Walton, Smith & Donatti for the last five years. Prior to that, Wolf had been working with the Portal Foundation in New York where he quickly gained a name for himself with innovative plans that turned once derelict office buildings into economical apartments. Nancy Rand, Renovations Inc's well known CEO, indicated that gaining the award-winning young architect has already brought dividends with the offer of restoring a multi-story bank in New York...."

DISCOVER DELIGHTFUL CORVUS MOUND

Oklahoma Tourism Agency (2006) -- Corvus Mound is another historic gem hidden among the rolling hills of Eastern Oklahoma. A booming mining town before statehood, Corvus Mound all but shut down when tragic events halted work at the largest operation, O'Malley Mining. However, the reopening of the Montford Arms hotel aims to jumpstart the local economy once more. After being closed for 20 years, the hotel has reinvented itself as a high-end retreat and condominium. The nearby Corvus Mounds (the eponymous earthworks built by Native Americans nearly 1,000 years ago) have become an important historical site and tourist destination thanks to the University of Oklahoma's Dr. Karen Houston. Houston has spent the past few years turning this sleepy archaeological site into a first-rate scientific center. The Corvus Mound Archaeological Center boasts a museum chronicling the history of Eastern Oklahoma as well as historical and genealogical libraries.

Interdepartmental Memo

SCIENTISTS HALT DIGGING DIRT TO THROW IT

Chicago (AP) - - The annual meeting of the American Federation of Archaeologists was shocked by a presentation fromone of its members, and reaction to it by another, during the opening days of the group's annual meeting in Chicago. Dr. Karen Houston, Oklahoma University, presented a collection of striking artifacts that severely challenge theories of exactly who were the earliest occupants of North America. The finds, recently excavated from Oklahoma's Corvus Mounds, unleashed a firestorm from Dr. Stan Jefferies who challenged her research in a mid-presentation outburst.

VEGAS BIDS FAREWELL TO RETIRING SEER

Las Vegas (AP) - - The Las Vegas Tourism Department honored Cookie Daniels, the 56 year-old famed "psychic to the stars," during a special taped segment of the upcoming Vegas Live! special, airing on CBS later this month. Daniels, a veteran of late night television shows and the Vegas strip for over 20 years, told reporters it was “just time to retire.” Although hanging up her crystal ball will be hard. She admits the death of her husband and manager last year has left her frequently grief-stricken and unable to fulfill the commitments of her profession. Daniels had cut several performances from her schedule and canceled her appearance on The Tonight Show. Friends noted the famed prophetess had been deeply impacted by the loss. Henry Belford, long-time friend and noted fashion designer explained that she took her husband's death "very hard," quelling rumors that the couple had long-since drifted apart. When asked what she saw for her own future, the psychic in her signature pink blouse and well groomed snowy white hair simply smiled. "The future is a little unclear right now."