Free The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear

Horrifying memories flashed across the canvas of her souls … Straight Path Canyon nine moons ago … the masked Wolf Katsina cutting the flesh from their friend Hophorn’s body … Browser shooting the katsina, watching it reel, and run, then the terrible instant when he tore the mask from the dying murderer’s face …
    “Browser, who could have done such a thing? The white-caped men we saw—”
    “Perhaps they did it. I don’t know. Surely it was someone who hated the katsinas.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    Browser toyed with a stick in the woodpile. He pulled it out and tossed it into the fire. “The attackers painted katsinas across the front of the village, then ritually killed them. Each katsina had a huge gaping hole in the middle of its chest.”
    Catkin pulled her wet blanket over her head and studied the glowing center of the fire. Just concentrating on it seemed to make her feel warmer. “Browser, why would our enemies waste time killing gods they don’t believe in?”
    Browser shrugged. “I do not know.”
    Catkin continued in a soft voice, “If I hated the katsinas, I wouldn’t paint them at all. I would paint the Flute Player on my enemy’s village instead. Or better yet, I would paint the Flute Player over the katsinas. If someone obliterated my gods and replaced them with their own, it would infuriate me.”
    He drew up a knee and propped his elbow on it. “Perhaps the attackers believed in different katsinas than we do. I have heard of such things. Ant Woman, the Matron of Dry Creek village, told me that the special Spirit Helpers far to the west are the Mouse Katsina and the Butterfly Katsina. Gods that are foreign to us.”
    Browser didn’t take his gaze from her for a long while, then he bent over the teapot. “This is warm. Toss me your cup. We should drink and be on our way.”
    Catkin dug around in her belt pouch and threw him her wooden cup.
    Browser dipped it full, handed it back, and filled a cup for himself.
    As he sipped, his rain-shiny brow furrowed. “There were other things, too, Catkin. In the plaza last night, I found five copper bells like the one you discovered in the mummy’s belly.”
    “In the plaza? Just lying on the ground?”
    “Yes. They had been polished to make them shine in the moonlight, then placed in a line leading from the eastern trail to the kiva.”
    Catkin’s hands tightened on her cup. “Bait?”
    “Probably, yes.”
    “And you climbed into the kiva anyway?” she almost shouted.
    He lifted a hand to halt her tirade. “No, not at first. I went from
room to room in the village, and climbed halfway up the western trail before I turned back. I had to look in the kiva, Catkin.”
    “You, who are like Packrat and always need an escape hole? Great gods, Browser, why aren’t you dead?”
    He looked up and rain beaded his eyelashes. “I’ve been asking myself that same question. I should be. I heard them coming. The woman threw a copper bell down into the kiva before she pulled out the ladder.”
    “Taunting you?”
    Browser swirled his tea in his cup. “I can’t be sure, of course, but I had the feeling it was payment.”
    “Payment? For what?”
    He shrugged. “It’s just a feeling. I think she wanted a witness.”
    Her mouth quirked. “Most killers murder witnesses. They don’t pay them, Browser.”
    “I know I must sound crazy, Catkin, but I am trying to think of different reasons for what I saw last night. None of this may be correct.”
    Catkin released her hold on her blanket, and it slipped back from her head and onto her shoulders. Rain misted her face. She was good at figuring things out; it was one of her few talents. She had never learned the skills most women cherished, what to plant and when, cooking, making beautiful pottery. But she had an uncanny ability to slip into her opponent’s souls and view the world through his eyes.
    “Tell me everything, Browser. You climbed down into the kiva and the woman walked up, pulled out