Like so many great stories, this one begins with a sunrise. Well, it should have. Instead, it begins on an overcast morning where the clouds were just threatening enough to make people throw on their waterproof jackets when they went outside.

Unfortunately, that’s the weather in Washington for you.

However, even if it had been a beautiful sunrise without a cloud in the sky, Vance most likely would have slept through it anyway. As it was, he woke up at noon on his first Saturday at Whitman College. Looking out his window, he had no idea what time it was because the sun’s position in the sky wasn’t readily available, so he finally groped around for his watch and noted that it was no longer morning and he should finally get up and get dressed.

Oozing out of bed as only a college student can, he spent a few minutes staring around his room in a stupor. Now that he had his dual monitors working, his desk looked pretty impressive… like someone who was actually a computer whiz lived here instead of him. The place was actually starting to come together, thankfully, and he was glad to have finally gotten everything out of boxes.

When he finally decided to get dressed, he opened up his closet door to grab some clothing. As he mused over his numerous choices (jeans or snowboarding pants) his reflection in the mirror on the door cleared its throat to grab his attention. Glancing up, Vance nodded good morning to his double and waited for it to start speaking.

“Wear something water-proof. It’s gonna rain later on today.” It said thoughtfully. After a brief pause, it added, “And put on your thrashed jeans, you’ll be glad later on.”

“Why?”

“When was the last time I told you why I wanted you to do something mysterious?”

“Last week! You told me to wear my blue tie because the cute hostess at the party would notice the pattern on her break and ask me to dance!”

Vance’s reflection beamed proudly. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my mysterious prophecy then.”

Knowing that this was a pointless argument, Vance sighed and threw on a racing jersey, his beat up old jeans, and a ski jacket. Once he was done, he glanced up at his reflection again.

“Anything else I should know?”

“In approximately 45 seconds that cute redhead from dinner last night is going to come to the backdoor of the dorm and will be laden-down by groceries. You may want to be a gentleman and help her out…”

Noticing that Vance had already fled the room, the reflection stopped talking and began laughing softly. Shaking its head, it gradually faded out of view.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Vance’s reflection had been right about the rain… it had started as a light misting and grown into a steady downpour over the period of an hour. Mud had slopped all over Vance’s jeans as he trudged all around the new campus; interrupting intimate conversations between old friends and introducing himself as a new transfer student and eventually finding himself a part of these talks. He arrived back at his dorm room around 6 PM or so and sat down to rot his mind with video games.

The rain started to really dump a little while later, and Vance was grateful for the roof over his head and the heating unit under his bed. As he munched on chips and drank some sodas with his roommate, Scott, he was glad to have arrived at this new school that was such a welcoming and exciting environment. It was when Scott left to go to the bathroom that there was a flash of lightning and an eerie shadow cast itself on the wall of Vance’s room.

The figure on the wall looked human, but what made the image strange and disturbing was that it did not move during the flash and the fact that a figure like that should not have been projected onto the wall of a third floor dorm room from the street outside. As soon as it had lit up the room, the lighting was gone. So too, was the shadow, but it didn’t so much disappear as fade out swiftly an instant after the lightning disappeared.

Startled out of his seat, Vance looked out his window and was shocked to see an American Indian in full ceremonial garb staring up at him from the street. Without waiting for an explanation from his reflection, Vance grabbed his jacket, bolted from the room, and was on the street faster than one would think he could run.

Up close, Vance was able to examine the Indian and collect some details. He was dressed in a heavy buckskin suit, with braided hair, various beads and painted symbols adorning his body, and a leather pouch hung from his neck. Over his shoulders he wore a wolf pelt as a sort of cloak with the head acting as a hood to shield him from the rain.

The two stood there for a while, examining each other in silence as the rain continued to pour down on them and lighting illuminated their features. Finally, the shaman (who else would be standing in the middle of an ominous rainstorm in full costume?) broke the silence.

“I thought you’d be taller.”

Vance cocked an eyebrow while his reflection in a puddle nearby stuck its tongue out and blew a raspberry.

Without another word, the shaman turned around and started walking out of town. Without hesitation, Vance started to follow a few steps behind.

I swear, he thought to himself as he pulled his hood over his head, you travel into a parallel universe just once to fight for the side of justice, order, and good and the rest of your life is filled with the most bizarre experiences.

The two walked for what seemed like hours. Without a watch or the moon to observe it was impossible to tell for sure. They strode out of the town of Walla Walla and through the fields that surrounded it. Past the fields were sporadic groupings of trees marking the beginning of a wilderness that had yet to be tamed.

Finally, they stopped in a clearing that had a large circular building in it. It looked like a log cabin decorated with carved totems… a spirit lodge, Vance realized as a memory from his Native American Studies class surfaced in his mind.

The two approached a door in the side of the building and stepped in out of the rain to a room that was warm and, most important, dry. Looking around, Vance was shocked to see a tasteful and modernly decorated house surrounding him. Just past the wood floor of the entry hall was a thick white carpet and that opened up on a living room containing a fireplace on one wall of the room that was surrounded by four overstuffed chairs and two very large sofas. Next to the fireplace was a full entertainment center complete with a high definition television and surround sound speakers. Instead of a wall across from the fireplace and TV, was a bar-like counter that noted the beginning of the home’s fully modern kitchen. At the end away from Vance and his mysterious host were two closed doors, but based on what was visible, they opened up into some fairly comfortable living quarters.

Turning around to face the mystery man, Vance’s jaw dropped. The shaman had removed his ceremonial garb and was dressed in water resistant thermal underwear.

“God, I hate having to trudge out in the rain in that getup,” he complained as he hung up the buckskin and pelt on separate coat racks to dry. “If you don’t dry it right away, the smell that settles in is just awful. Oh, take off your shoes. I don’t want mud on the carpet.” With that, he took off his moccasins and replaced them with some thick slippers. He slipped around the corner into the kitchen as Vance was hastily removing his tennis shoes.

“Would you like a Coke?” he called out.

“Um… sure. Aren’t we supposed to drink tea or something?” asked Vance dubiously.

“Yeah, but I’m all out of Earl Grey.”

“…Oh.”

Vance took a seat on one of the sofas and waited for his host to join him. After a minute or two, the man walked over, handed him a can of Coke, and sat on the opposing couch. The two studied each other once again and this time it was Vance who broke the silence.

“I’m the only one up here that I know of who’s been to the Otherworld. I can’t see the portals, but I’m electrokinetic. Unless you can think of a way for me to get over there, we’re out of luck.”

The shaman smirked and gazed at Vance for a moment longer. Finally, he set his cup of coffee down and leaned back.

“The spirits were right about you, kid. You’re honest, you mean well, but you don’t know a whole lot. Most of that you’re going to have to learn, but I’m here to sort of introduce you to things up here.” Leaning forward, he extended his hand. “I’m Alex, by the way. Alex Stormcrow.”

Vance shook his hand and formally introduced himself. “So what’s the deal? Why were you dressed like that outside my window?”

“Let me answer the second question first: with your background, who would you follow blindly into the woods? A shaman in full gear who insisted on trudging on foot through a rain storm, or a stranger with a jeep who told you to get in because he was getting soaked?”

“Point taken.”

“Now, in answer to the other question: what’s going on… well, it’s some pretty major league shit. The spirits have started to get really uneasy when they’ve talked to me lately. Apparently, things from the Otherworld have found a way to cross over up here into our world. Until recently, though, they couldn’t affect our reality… they could only observe.”

Sipping his coffee, Alex stared into the crackling fire besides him.

“Last night, though, one of them was strong enough to abduct a child. Somehow, whatever it is that has come through figured out a way to start affecting things over here. What do you call yourselves Down South? Those of you who’ve traveled across and come back with powers?”

Vance cleared his throat. “Sluggers… it’s sort of an inside joke since we all went to UC Santa Cruz.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “So that’s what He meant when he said someone from a place of slugs was coming.”

Vance sat up. “Someone knew I was coming? If you don’t mind me asking… who?”

“A spirit… hold on, maybe he should talk to you instead.”

Crossing over to the entertainment system, Alex turned the power on and turned the bass to the highest setting while he put all the other dials on the equalizer as low as they could go. He nodded to the speakers. “Say hello to Grandfather.”

Vance dubiously looked at the speakers all around him. Well, he thought with a shrug, I might as well. I’ve come this far. “Hello, Grandfather.”

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then, softly, a rumbling began to pass through the speakers. Building in strength and volume, Vance realized that it was the sound of rolling thunder, heard from far away as it approached.

GREETINGS… FLESH OF MY FAMILY… IT IS GOOD TO HEAR… YOU ADDRESS ME SO… came a voice from the speakers. It was not a voice that was not so much heard, but felt by a person. It was not very loud but it was powerful, penetrating a person’s body and gently vibrating their very bones in time to it. Above all, it was a voice that conveyed a feeling of great age… it came from a being that was as old as time itself and would continue to exist for millennia to come.

“Vance,” said Alex, “this is Grandfather Thunder. He asked me to bring you here.”

Vance closed his eyes and concentrated on the voice. He found it easier to imagine he was standing beneath a giant storm cloud in the middle of some nameless rolling prairie rather than listening to one of the oldest Native American spirits speak to him through someone’s surround sound system.

“I’m sorry, Grandfather,” he said as calmly as he could while choosing his words carefully, “but I did not realize we were related. Would you mind explaining such an extraordinary family tree to me?”

YOUR FAMILY CAME FROM… THE OLD WORLD… MY BROTHER WITH THE RAVENS… HAD A SON WHO COULD CALL… THUNDER AND LIGHTNING…YOU…SPRING FROM…THEIR BLOODLINE…YOU ARE HEIR TO A GREAT…LINEAGE…YOUR COUSIN SHALL EXPLAIN…THINGS…IT IS GOOD…TO KNOW YOU HAVE THE TALENT…OF THE STORM…

With that, the thunder faded away as softly as it had arrived. Alex turned off the stereo and smiled at Vance. “So here’s the skinny: you’re related to Grandfather Thunder and so am I. That’s why he called us cousins. However, you and I are different- namely because I’m a shaman and you… well, you’re more of an elemental.”

Vance did a double take. “Elemental? Then how come I’ve always been physically normal before?”

“Because you’re descended from gods and spirits. They do occasionally lay with people and their offspring aren’t always as divine as their ancestors. Consider yourself a healthy mix of nature and humanity.”

“So what do I need to do?” Vance grimaced, knowing that it was going to be a long night ahead of him.

“Well, first, we need to get you a ceremonial outfit. One that will serve you when you use your powers. It has to have some sort of special meaning to you. That way, you can summon it up when you need it. Is there anything like that that you own?”

Vance thought for a moment. Finally, something came to mind. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’ve got something.”

Alex grinned. “Great, let’s give you your first lesson on being a Grandchild. Come on outside.”

The two slipped outside through the front door and found themselves in the middle of a torrential downpour. Alex nodded to Vance and said, “Now, concentrate on that outfit I told you about. Imagine it on you. Remember the way it makes you feel, the kind of person you believe that you are when you wear it.”

Concentrating on his clothing, Vance felt reality change. No, not change. Things just shifted. Looking down at his arm, he saw that he no longer was wearing his jeans or racing jersey. Instead, he was wearing his ski patroller’s uniform: red vest with a white cross on the back, black snowboarder pants, black gloves, black thermal underwear with the built in crash pads, bright red boots, sitting in his hand was his snowboard and on his head he felt his Oakley sunglasses. Looking again at the snowboard, he cast a questioning glance towards Alex.

“Think of it as a method of transportation. You can call the outfit and dismiss it whenever you’re in a storm. Now I know this is going to seem unfair, but you need to find out whatever it is that’s crossed over to our world and get rid of it. I’ll find you tomorrow when all this is done and start your real instruction about the Grandchildren. I promise.

“What you’re going to need to do is put your board on and follow your feelings on where that thing is. Trust me, your board will take care of the rest…”

Knowing there was no point in protesting that he didn’t know what to do when he found the thing from the Otherworld, Vance put his board down and jumped back when it floated a foot above the ground. Shaking his head in disbelief, he gingerly stepped on and was less surprised when his bindings strapped themselves to his feet. Just as he started rising up, he heard Alex clear his throat. Turning around to face his new cousin, he waited patiently.

Alex took a deep breath and smiled reassuringly at Vance.

“Look, I know you probably know what you’re doing. But I wanted to warn you about one thing. Don’t try to use too much power right now. If you do, it’s possible you could lose your mind to the Storm for a while, and things can sometimes become… um… interesting if that happens.”

Without another word, Alex turned around and went back down in the house.

Looking up at the cloud-covered sky Vance took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind for a feeling of wrongness from the storm.

Without warning, a bolt of lighting struck the spot where Vance floated. As soon as it was gone and silence returned to the clearing, Alex looked out his kitchen window at the spot of scorched earth where Vance had been and grinned.

“Attaboy. I knew you’d be a quick learner.”

Riding via lightning is a strange thing. The travel is so fast that it approaches the speed of light, and each bolt only travels a few miles at the most. However, Vance had no trouble navigating through the storm, skipping from bolt to bolt as easily as if he were walking up and down stairs. As fast as it happened, to Vance it seemed as if he were merely snowboarding through the sky.

Interesting… I’ll have to see what I can do when I’m not hunting down supernatural vermin.

Alex had been right about how there was something within the storm that felt wrong. No, not wrong… unclean. Reaching out with his mind again to perceive what the storm perceived, Vance closed his eyes. To his inner eye the weather had a cool bluish-grey look to it, with the earth beneath it given a green color. The storm clouds continued to pulse over and around the terrain like a living being, making it hard to pinpoint the intruder’s origin. Finally, he spotted it. Right in the middle of the storm was a spot of roiling blackness. Yep, definitely not from around here.

Something unnatural was within the storm’s boundaries, and the weather was trying its best to wash the blight away.

Vance rode the lightning in an instant to the spot. In the instant that he was traveling between the clouds and the ground, he saw a figure standing poised over a smaller shadow with a knife. Convincing the lightning to strike in a different spot than it had originally intended to was not difficult: lightning is naturally chaotic and little cares where it hits, plus the knife was metal and a natural magnet for such things in a storm.

The would-be murderer was blown about twenty feet away from his intended victim and went skidding across the muddy grass. Vance flipped around in the air and flew across the grass, scooping up the unconscious child without slowing down. His first thought was to get the kid as far away from harm as possible. As he sped along, he reoriented himself and realized that he was right in the middle of Whitman’s campus! Within seconds, he was hovering in front of the Whitman Health Center’s front door. Gently placing the boy on the ground, he pounded on the front door. As soon as he’d gotten the nurse’s attention, he flew off, once again aiming for the quad where the boy’s assailant still was (according to the storm). He knew that there was a doctor on duty tonight, so even if the child had been drugged he would be all right.

The figure was right where Vance had left him, stunned and smoking on the ground but coming out of his daze. Well, let’s see if I can put the fear of God into this bastard with a flashy arrival.

Vance called forth another lightning bolt to hit the ground directly in front of his opponent. As he rode it down, he mentally dismissed his board at the last second and landed on the ground in a crouch.

It was an impressive entrance to say the least: the lightning struck just as he’d hoped, and after the flash Vance sat on one knee on the scorched and steaming earth with his head bowed down. He let the effect settle for an instant and then raised his head and stood up. Hoping to create as dramatic an effect as possible, he had lighting from the clouds illuminate the entire field, casting an eerily stark light on his face for just an instant.

He took a moment to survey the thing sitting in front of him. It was humanoid, but far more sinister than any person could hope to be. It had to be at least eight feet tall, with alabaster skin and red eyes that glowed just barely enough to be visible in the poor light of the night. Its face was human, with high cheekbones and a slender face that many male models would kill to have. Its ears were long and pointed, made to look longer by its short haircut. I was very thin, almost painfully so. There didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on the being. It wore an outfit that seemed to have been modeled from the clothing Davey Crockett had worn during his adventuring days, except that the buckskin was a mottled gray and there seemed to be a priest’s collar about its neck. The collar was an exact opposite, though, in color of what it should have been. The majority was white with a small square of black at the center. It cocked its head at Vance and just stared in what was quite possibly the creepiest manner he’d ever seen anyone do.

Well, here goes nothing.

“You’re trespassing,” Vance stated and called on enormous thunderclaps to boost his ego. Suddenly, he felt lightheaded and slightly dizzy. So much for holding back. This must have been what Alex was talking about. Shit.

Without a word, the thing lunged for Vance. In an instant, he was traveling up a lightning strike and launched off of it four feet above where he had been, landing a flying kick that would have done Bruce Lee proud to the thing’s head. The thing was thrown off balance for an instant, but immediately whirled around and snarled a mouthful of needle-like teeth. Crap.

This time, Vance didn’t move when the creature charged him. He calmly extended his left hand and sent out a ball of lightning, catching his opponent directly in the face. That hurt it. It also sent it flying five feet in the opposite direction. However, if Vance felt lightheaded before, he could barely see straight now. He tried to channel more lightning, but the strain was too much. He collapsed to his hands and knees.

Suddenly, Vance’s mind was free from his body and was watching the battle from a distance. A silent and invisible witness to what could possibly be the last few minutes of his life.

His body suddenly jerked upright as if held by the strings of an unseen puppeteer, his toes hovering just slightly above the ground. Slowly, the head raised itself up to look at the invader from the Otherworld and laughed long and wickedly. Each note of its voice was like the sound lightning makes when it strikes a mountain peak. It was loud. It was everywhere. It was unbalanced. It was the first time Vance had ever heard raw chaos embodied in a person’s voice.

The Oakley sunglass no longer had orange lenses either. Instead, the glowed an eerie blue-white and the red flames had changed to blue lightning bolts. Floating across the ground with his toes barely touching the ground, the host body for the Storm approached its enemy.

Not quite grasping what had happened to the young man who had interrupted its sacrifice, the creature dove for its knife on the ground and threw it at Vance’s body. The Storm didn’t even try to dodge. Instead, the body became a dark cloud for only an instant and split apart, letting the blade sail harmlessly through dead space where its host body’s heart had been. As soon as the knife was clear, the cloud solidified and continued its advance.

Forming its words as if it had not spoken for centuries and was out of practice, the body began to speak as it floated on.

“Vile… beast…. not wanted here in this world…This land has protectors still and your kind has no right here…”

Snarling, the beast took a running leap at the Storm, gnashing its teeth. A casual backhand knocked it out of the air and into a tree.

Not to be interrupted, the Storm continued with its message. “The Wendigo and their compatriots do not have a place in this web… Tell that to your masters…” As it finished its last sentence, the tree the Wendigo was leaning against was hit by numerous lightning bolts, ripping what looked like a tear into the very air surrounding it.

The Wendigo stared dumbfounded at the air around it and then began to writhe and shriek in agony as its body warped unnaturally as it was pulled into a vortex. It began to stretch out, like a piece of silly putty being pulled apart, and it finally snapped into the hole in the air completely. As soon as it was gone, the air mended itself and there was no evidence of the portal to the Otherworld.

With the Wendigo gone, the Storm left Vance’s body, leaving it to crumble to the ground in a heap. It was then that Vance was allowed to return to his body and keep possession of it.

Vance blinked his eyes open and moaned in agony from the killer headache he had suddenly acquired. As he sat up, he glanced around to make sure no one had seen the battle between him and the Wendigo. The only other witness was a pair of ravens sitting in a tree branch across the quad from him. They cocked their heads and suddenly flew off.

Struggling to his feet, Vance wearily made his way across the quad towards his dorm. Just before he got inside, he remembered to will his original clothing back into place so as not to raise any questions from fellow students who might be up late.

Soaking wet, exhausted, and in pain, Vance crawled up the stairs to his room and barely made it into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

In the closet mirror Vance’s reflection began tucking the reflection of Vance’s bed sheets in, thus making the real world version appear to be tucking themselves. With a proud smile, the reflection gathered up the clothing strewn on the floor and put it in the laundry basket. Finally, after one last look at Vance passed out on his bed, the reflection settled down in its own bed for some well deserved rest.