"You just don't understand," Sam insisted. "She's sick."
"You're crazy, Verner," Estios spat back at him.
"She's a killer. She has to be stopped."
"She has killed no one," Rinaldi said. "Hunting her down and killing her would be murder.''
"She's a wendigo. It's necessary," Estios said.
"It's murder," Sam said.
"It's moot," Willie said. "At least for now. I've called back the drones."
"You stupid halfer," Estios screamed. He grabbed his Steyr and headed out the door. "Come on. If we don't hurry, the beast will get away." Teresa slung her weapon and started after him. "Teresa!" Dodger called, stopping her halfway to the door.
"You're not like him, Teresa," Dodger insisted.
"Don't go with him."
She stood still for a full five seconds, then ran out the door. She didn't look back. Dodger slammed his fist into the wall, then sought out a corner and collapsed in it, arms folded over his drooping head. "Willie, what have you done?" Sam asked. "Got rid of a real loser," she said. "Sorry about your bird, Dodger."
"She made her own choice," Dodger said glumly. ' 'But they're going after Janice,'' Sam said. "They'll kill her."
"Neg. She'll be gone. I dropped a drone in to spook her. All they'll find is an empty squat."
"But you have lost her to us as well," Rinaldi pointed out.
"Neg, again. Got a pair of drones still on her tail."
"Clever, Willie," Rinaldi said. "Affirm," the rigger agreed as she returned her full attention to monitoring her drones' progress.
Sam forced himself to ignore the pain and rose to his feet. Unsteadily, he limped to Rinaldi. Taking the priest by his arm, Sam leaned close. "You're an expert on magic, father. Tell me there's a way to cure her. There must be a way."
Rinaldi bowed his head for a moment, then looked Sam in the eyes. "I just don't know, Sam. Science knows next to nothing of the wendigo metatype, and magical tradition adds precious little. If the tales from the north are true, the wendigo nature is a curse. If that is the case, it may be that she can be restored. But if it is a biological change and nothing more, I fear there is little hope. I will pray that your faith and love be rewarded, but I just don't know." "You won't really hunt her, will you?" Rinaldi turned his head away. "First things first, Sam. You and Hart are hurt and must be taken care of. Janice is fresh and strong, while we are tired and weak. I have no doubt she has been well trained in combat and magic by the evil. If we try to restrain her she will fight, and she might kill most of us."
"She would never kill me. I'm her brother." "You could be right. I pray that you are. That might be her way to redemption." Might. Could be. Maybe. Wasn't anything certain? "I'll never be sure, will I, father?" "In this life? I think not, Sam. But one can always pray, and trust in the Lord. He is always with us."
Sam said nothing for a few minutes, quiet as he thought about Janice and about what Rinaldi had said. Finally, he said, "I think you're right, father. I think He will be with me in this. You might even say that He's dogging my path."
Frowning, Rinaldi said, "You sound like a shaman
I once knew."
Sam just smiled. All those mights, could-bes and maybes were full of possibilities. All kinds of possibilities. It was only despair that made the future seem dark. He didn't have to look at it that way and vowed that he wouldn't. Dog had shown him the enlightening and redeeming power of hope.
Sam knew he'd find a way to do what had to be done.