Banks Blackhorse Books 1 - 2: Banks Blackhorse Box Set, The Night the Sky Fell and The Day the Sky Shattered

By Stephen G. Levy

2 Books

The Night the Sky Fell:

When a young man breaks a pact with the Spirit, he unleashes a wrath on a small town where women are compelled to destroy the men.

The Day the Sky Shattered:

After ridding the town of killer creatures, our young-adult hero has a new villain who captures him and his five millennial friends. While in captivity in a contained setting, steamy romances heat up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen G. Levy
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386201335

Book preview

Raven Thoughts

B lood will spill, thought the raven.

The Monarch Raven was perched on the head of President Lincoln at Mount Rushmore.   He gazed at the other three presidential sculptures situated in Rapid City, South Dakota.  These presidents wanted something better and got it.  They fought hard to better the life situations for their people...their white people.  With great expectations, they would tread on anyone who got in their way.

The Monarch Raven knew about this when he spent most of his time in New Zealand amongst other Chatham ravens.  Centuries ago, the Europeans came to New Zealand and killed off all its species.  It is thought by many Native Alaskans that some ravens lived forever.  Some Native Alaskans even argued about what came first...the raven or the Great Spirit? 

The Monarch Raven’s attention shifted to a sudden electrical sprite.  It was like a flash of lightning that lasts for a fraction of a second and shoots upward.  The raven could sense when the rotation of the earth had a small shift.  It did right now.  The increasing electromagnetism that it sensed validated its thought: Blood will spill. 

Over the years, he rarely got involved with the politics of the Great Spirit, but he could tell when that the Spirit’s executioner was on a mission.  That sensation and the silent lightning that turned the sky to indigo was enough for the raven to know untoward activity was about to occur.  The Old Soul was coming soon, and the Monarch Raven wanted to watch.  All he had in life now was to watch.  The raven had given up on the hope of finding a mate.  It was lonely.  But, curiosity was its solace to pass the time...so much time.

The Monarch Raven took flight from President Lincoln’s head and flew over an American Indian Reservation.  The raven glided over barbed wire and landed on an isolated mobile home.  It cawed.  It was a song of dread with the promise of death.

Inside the mobile home was a crib.  Baby Banks Blackhorse’s eyes opened.  It was rare for an American Indian to have violet eyes.  Banks’ Sioux mother inserted eye drops.  She rocked the crib as his father approached.  Just as the father stared down at Banks, the raven on the roof cawed loudly and there was a flash of indigo lightning.

Banks’ father whispered, The evil is coming.

Banks’ mother commanded, Stop it! Stop it!  Your brother should be here by now.  He knows how to stop—

There were loud rapid firecracker sounds!  The walls of the mobile home popped with fist size dents.  The ceiling buckled.  The home swayed.  The raven on the roof flapped to remain steady.  Mother shrieked and covered her ears.  At that instant she was covered by the indigo mist.  There was silence for a moment as she remained still.

Father opened the front door.  Covering his eyes, Father was blinded by two headlights.  Chief Dan ran out of his pickup and warned his brother, It’s here.  The Old Soul is here.

The cloud of indigo mist moved outdoors leaving the mother frozen with fear.  The mist appeared directly behind Chief’s truck.  But Chief Dan was more concerned about what was in the house...behind his brother:  It was the Sioux Mother with shining indigo eyes.  The Chief ran out to his truck and grabbed an axe.  At that instant, Sioux Mother bellowed an unearthly sound.  Her hands vice squeezed her husband’s head until his head flattened.  Raven flitted to the window and viewed the murder of Banks’ father.  Mother turned to the crib and marched to Baby Banks.  Chief lunged after her.  He swung the axe from its backside to render the mother unconscious.  The mother fell unconscious to the floor.  The mist closed in on the house as Chief grabbed Baby Banks.  The mist transformed into an indiscernible human form.  The Chief chanted in Native Alaskan Tlingit while he held Banks in one hand and the axe in another.  Chief was face to face with the Old Soul.  Chief Dan raised his axe and swung it towards the entity.  The mother regained temporary consciousness while her eyes lost the indigo glow.  She took in the scene, clutched at her heart and died from the horror of it all.  The Old Soul retreated and became one with the mist.  Banks opened his violet eyes.

PART I, THE PROMISE

Happy Birthday, Banks

The eyes of eighteen -year-old Banks Blackhorse were unsettling.  Some sort of a dilemma needed to be resolved until his eyes would find comfort.  One could notice this because his eyes were magnified by thick lenses.  His good looks were somewhat hidden by his long hair.  His attention focused to the sounds of his uncle, Chief Dan, who chanted in Tlingit near a campfire in the wilderness of Juneau, Alaska.  It was night and it was cold, and The Monarch Raven watched from a branch of a shimmering evergreen.

Banks thought of the promise he made to himself exactly one year ago while he was getting a tattoo.  It was a small tattoo on the top of his arm.  It was simply a small stickman all in white.  This symbolized to him what he wanted out of life.  His maternal grandmother was white with violent eyes.  He knew through his teens that this was a white man’s world with white man’s privileges.  The obstacle was his uncle Chief Dan who raised him after the death of his parents.  Banks was simply told that his parents died in an auto accident when he was a baby.

Banks wanted a white man’s lifestyle more than anything.  He wanted a white man’s high paying job.  Also, in time, he wanted a white man’s wife.  He rubbed his arm as his uncle continued to chant.  He would change his name to simply Banks Black.  He smiled at the thought of his new name.  He considered it an inside joke.

His uncle had a different idea for Banks’ future.  First and foremost, he was setting the stage in his tribe that Banks would succeed him as Chief.  He was content that Banks was working at a school for the blind and helping blind kids.  But once his eyesight improved this evening, the Chief wanted him to become more aware of Tlingit history.  He wanted him to fish, hunt and learn from the Shaman and eventually embark on his rite of passage known as a vision quest.  He wanted Banks to become more involved in nature and have respect for the Spirit Above his Head.

Banks knew how to solicit help to achieve his ‘white’ goal.  But, he must take time and nurture the characters that could help him.  No help would come from his tribe.  At the Juneau School for the Blind was one of the wealthiest kids in Juneau.  Banks and the white kid had a strong relationship.  Somehow, if he could become the kid’s trusted tutor, perhaps his family would see his value and help him to attain his secret wishes.

The Arctic winds have not been kind to the face of Chief Dan.  As he chanted he was aware of his nephew’s desire to disconnect from his Indian heritage.  It was Dan’s earnest hope that tonight’s birthday gift for Banks would solidify his Indian future.  As he continued to chant, his fingers moved over his Braille book.  Chief Dan was not blind, but Banks had little vision and today the book would be given to him.

Hurry, Banks.  They’re coming.  They’re coming, warned Chief Dan.  Banks switched from white dreams to Indian commands.  Banks picked up a large vat from the old pickup and ran to his uncle.  Banks is it the royal honey?  After Banks nodded, the Chief continued, Open it...now make your wish.  The Spirit Above My Head will hear it better in Tlingit.  Take the book and feel your way through it to the Great Spirit.

As Banks chanted, meteorites fired up in the night sky and disintegrated to pea sized pebbles as they landed in the vat.  When they splat, a gas emitted from the vat.  Make your wish quickly, Banks.  Now cover the vat.  Banks carried the mixture of honey and meteorites to the pickup.  Chief handed the book to Banks, Happy Birthday, nephew.  Remember, we the Indian way is not a dead-end street.  Banks hid his grimace and hopped into the truck.  Normally, Banks would have smirked at Indian lore, legend and magic.  But, a year ago, right after he was tattooed with a white stickman, he went into his bathroom and shut the door.  He admired his new tattoo.  And while doing so, he heard a flapping from his bathroom window.  Suddenly, behind him, he saw the tribe’s Shaman: We are not pleased.  And then he heard flapping again and Shaman was gone.  Later, when he approached the Shaman, the Shaman had no recollection of this event.  But he told Banks that it was probably a shape shifting raven.  For the past year, Banks had a choice of either doubting lore or doubting his sanity.  He finally opted for the former with the thought that, Weird shit happens to Indians.

The Tlingit compound looked like a Motel 6 except for the totem pole:  It had two stories with twenty rooms on each of the two floors.  The women lived on the first floor. The exception was for Dan and a few older men who could not climb stairs.  As Chief Dan parked the truck, he expressed his thought which was at the heart of Banks’ dilemma:

When your eyes improve, you will see the evils of the white man’s world. 

Banks argued, But, it’s their world and it is better! 

The Chief retorted, Banks, that’s strange talk from one who will be Chief one day. 

Banks questioned, Who says I want to be Chief? 

The Chief clutched his necklace of deer hooves which symbolized his position in the tribe.  The Chief conveyed disapproval through his silence and his grimace.

As they got out of the truck they stared at one another.  The Chief smiled and opened his arms.  Banks gravitated to him and he was instantly wrapped with love and understanding from his Chief.

I’m sorry, Uncle.  Banks’ magnified eyes were watery.  Dan pointed to the vat and Banks lifted it up.

The Chief reminded Banks, Now, this is most important, Banks.  Tell no one of this evening.  Break this pact with the Spirit Above and he’ll respond with a vengeance.

Banks nodded with understanding but mentally he answered, Whatever!  As Chief walked to unit one, Banks ascended the stairs to room twenty-four.  Banks paused a moment and placed the vat down.  He clutched the Braille book, then he approached the railing.  Directly below him, Marilyn White Owl, hefty and thirty, opened her door.  She lit a cigarette and inhaled the evening air with nicotine.  Neither Banks nor Marilyn knew the other was there.  Banks chanted with arms outstretched...then he said, Today I am a man. 

Marilyn chuckled and yelled, No boy, you are still a virgin.

Banks warned, Forget you heard that, Marilyn. 

Marilyn whooped, It will cost you, Banks.  Goodnight.  Happy Birthday. 

Banks placed the vat on his kitchen table.  He parked the Braille book next to The Great Gatsby.  He glanced at the Gatsby book and placed the Braille book on top of it.  Mockingly, he mumbled, Not tonight, Sport.  I need to forget white, rich folk.  Too many Indian things to do.

Night turned to day at the Tlingit Compound.  Banks had been going at it all night:  On the table were twenty vials attached to eyedroppers.  Banks squeezed the last of the vat solution into a vial.  He placed one vial into his pocket and returned the rest to the refrigerator where there were one hundred vials. 

He ran down the stairs.  Marilyn exhaled smoke from her cigarette: Chief is in a foul mood this morning. 

Nothing new, late for work, Marilyn.  And about last night...you didn’t hear anything.  She laughed heartily.

Banks hopped into his pickup.  Juneau is inaccessible by car.  One must fly or come by boat.  All roads in Alaska’s state capital are dead ends.  As Banks left the compound, he saw the ‘Dead End’ sign in his rear-view mirror.  Banks thought, Today I am a man. Today I become white.  He rubbed his arm where his tattoo was.

White People

Peyton Powers sat on the eye-examination chair.  His feet dangled.  He seemed aware of his setting by sounds and smells.  This was a gifted seven-year-old boy.  Mom, I can hear you sniffling.  I’m fine. 

Dr. Murray Abrams placed his hand on Peyton’s head to steady it and examined Peyton’s laughing eyes.  Dr. Abrams, you had bagel and lox for breakfast.... with coffee and juice...orange I think.

Julie Powers’ sniffles turned into an embarrassing chuckle.  Peyton localized the sound and turned his head.  Was I right, Mom?

Dr. Murray Abrams said, Peyton, try to sit still.  I need to look, and you were right about everything I ate for breakfast. 

Dr. Abrams shined a light into Peyton’s eye: I can see the light, Dr. Abrams.  I can see it with my mind’s eye.  Banks taught me that Tlingits have a mind’s eye. 

Peyton was born completely blind.  His perception of life came from his Mother Julie and lately from books and especially Banks Blackhorse.  Banks told Peyton he had an Indian soul.  He also called Peyton ‘Sport’ most of the time and explained that was what the Great Gatsby called his past love’s cousin.  But the real reason that Banks called Peyton Sport was because Peyton was rich and white.  Sometimes Banks introduced new ideas to Peyton.  If they were a bit advanced for the young boy, the conversation would turn into a grueling grill from Peyton...each question yielded an answer which began another question.  Peyton was a happy kid with a mind like sponge.  He loved his mom, his dad and Banks; but, he detested his teenage sister.  Dr. Abrams’ assistant ushered Peyton to the waiting room and got him a lollipop. What color is the sucker, ma’am?  The assistant answered, It’s blue.

What’s blue?  And so, Peyton commenced with his drill and grill.  Meanwhile, Peyton’s mom, Julie, had her own grill which came to an abrupt halt.  Dr. Abrams was more than an ophthalmologist.  He was the only retina specialist in Juneau.  He also was Julie’s next-door neighbor and best friend to her husband Stan.  Quite simply, there was no hope for Peyton.  There was only hope for Julie’s acceptance of this fact.  Peyton will never see.  He explained that Peyton’s eyes are fine but the nerves to the brain just don’t work.  It’s like having a perfectly good landline whose cord was cut. 

Julie’s sniffles turned to weeps.  This emotion was compounded by her guilt.  Yes, the concept was horrific for any parent to take in, but her genetic defect added to the mix.  Julie felt that it was her fault.  When Stan and Julie had Tricia, she was a healthy girl and Julie wanted to try again despite the genome testing that indicated the possibility that Peyton would have no vision...ever.  And her fear of fears came true with the birth of Peyton.  Guilt and horror led to gin and tonic.  Sobriety was an unacceptable state for Julie Powers. 

The Juneau Glacier burst aquamarine.  After the glacier calved, blocks of ice floated towards the mouth which was known as the Gastineau Channel.  The channel bridge connected Juneau to Douglas Island.  The island was part of Juneau.  Nearby, Tlingit Indians anchored their fishing boats.  Further down, a cruise ship entered the channel.  A small aircraft landed at Juneau Airport.  It must be May.

Banks’ pickup passed the Alaskan Capitol Complex.  Further down, Banks parked at the Juneau School for the Blind.  He removed his glasses and brushed his hair back.  He yanked out the homemade eye drops from his pocket.  He inserted the gooey substance into his eyes.  There was a knock at the window.  His eyes were shut tight and he fought to open his lids against the honey-based stickiness.  Success.  His eyes slowly flicked open.  As he placed his glasses on, he noted Peyton and Julie at his window.

Peyton cheered, Banks, we beat you.  We beat you.  Peyton knocked at the window with his cane. 

Banks exited the truck and tousled Peyton’s hair.  Yes, you did, Sport.  Good morning, Mrs. Powers.  

Julie responded curiously, Do you have an eye infection?

Banks said, Just eye drops, Mrs. Powers.  No problems. 

Peyton intervened, Banks, I saw the shooting stars last night!  Julie looked towards the pavement as Banks smiled and acknowledged Peyton.

Banks learned Braille at the school and the teacher and staff offered him a position as a teacher’s aide.  Most of the current students were patients of Dr. Abrams.  Banks greeted all students with comments accompanied with touches on the shoulder.  Julie spoke with another student’s mother as Peyton made his way to his seat.  Before he sat, the seeing teacher spoke with a sighted mother and her infant.  The baby made a gurgling sound.  Peyton perked up, Mom, is that a baby I hear? 

Julie answered, Yes, Peyton. 

Peyton added, That’s what I want for Christmas.  Peyton made his way to the baby as Julie followed in protest.  The seeing mother guided Peyton to feel his way to the baby.  Peyton’s finger neared the baby’s lips. 

The baby’s mother assured, It’s okay, Peyton.  Peyton inserted a finger through the baby’s lips as the baby bit Peyton. 

Peyton complained, Ow!  Sharp!  Banks guided Peyton back to his seat.    Banks tell me Indian legends at lunch." 

Banks offered, I’ll let you read my grandfather’s secret legend book.  I translated it from Tlingit to English Braille.  Peyton was seated as Banks waved goodbye to Julie who stood out in the hallway. This was a depressing day for Julie Powers.  She waved back to Banks and yanked out her flask.  It was time for Julie to feel better.  She took a swig. 

The only time that Julie moved up a notch on her happiness scale was when she saw Banks and Peyton together.  She saw a powerful connection between the two.  This led to a momentary elation.  She asked herself wouldn’t it be great to always have Banks around?  She could think about other things like her daughter Tricia or even Stan whom she had not had sex with since Peyton’s birth.  She considered Banks more than a school aide to Peyton.  She considered him a friend.

Banks believed that friendship was based on two people’s agreement to use one another.  He got the notion from white people while going to high school.  He overheard implied bargains between students.  If favors were not returned, then friendships would be broken.  He never wanted that to happen with Peyton.  Sure, Peyton could become annoying at times but that was part of the bargain.  Banks would wait for the right time and cleverly strike for what he wanted.   He knew Julie Powers approved of him.  He wasn’t sure about Mr. Powers, but white mothers usually ruled the roost.   

The tourist season was aflutter.  All the cruise ships were in Juneau and the mosquitoes of July welcomed the tourists.  At Juneau’s highest points were emerald trees rising to the heavens and the area was impassable.  The road ended at Skyline Boulevard where the wealthiest of the wealthy lived.  The Powers and the Abrams lived next door to each other.  Each lived in a posh two-story house with a circular drive way. The Governor could not afford to live here.  No Indians lived here. This was white wealth and privilege.  This was Banks’ coveted dream.  Sometimes he would drive up in his pickup truck and park where no one could see him.  He would peer out from the trees and looked at the Powers’ house and pined quietly.  He felt like this was Gatsby territory.

Inside the Powers’ house, one would conclude correctly by the conspicuously Catholic adornments that the residents belonged to a Catholic Church.  The Abrams’ house was not conspicuously Jewish.  Both houses had a teenage daughter.

In the Powers’ house, Peyton read the Indian Legends book in Braille.  He took a few nuts from a bowl directly in front of him.  His hand reached for a glass of soda near the nuts.  After licking his fingers and wiping them clean on his shorts, he continued to read. 

Tricia studied Peyton from the second floor.  She removed her gum and shoes and slinked down the stairs.  She was almost sixteen with bosom overflowing.  She was the leader of the ‘A’ crowd at Juneau-Douglas High School.  At the core of her soul was Tricia’s charm which resembled a flesh-eating virus. 

At this moment, Tricia silently switched the nut bowl with the glass of soda.  Many privileged teenage girls in Juneau were suffering from ennui in July and sought relief from boredom by engaging in malicious acts with their younger siblings. Tricia sat on the staircase and waited with gleeful anticipation.  Meanwhile, Julie was in the study playing a somber classical piece on her piano. The downbeat piece seemed to punctuate her mood.  Julie wore her night mask and played the piano in the blind.  She understood the meaning of empathy.  She paused, and like Peyton, she hunted for her glass of gin and tonic in almost the same manner that Peyton previously hunted for his soda.  She found the glass, took a drink and continued with her music.  At that instant Peyton went for his soda. When placing the glass in his mouth, the nuts poured all over him. 

Peyton knew immediately what his sister had done, Tricia, you bitch!  I can smell your evil. 

Tricia laughed, Spazz!  Smell my evil!  Huh! 

Peyton yelled, Mom!  Tricia did the bitch-switch. 

Julie entered without her mask: Don’t say bitch, Peyton.  She snarled at Tricia, Say witch.  Tricia scampered up the staircase as Julie retreated to her piano, mask and alcohol.

On top of the grand piano was a family portrait.  The man seated next to Julie was Stan Powers.  Stan was Juneau’s most prominent attorney specializing in tax law.  He was a great family provider and sweet Tricia had always been the apple of his eye.  Everything was great in Stan’s world except for the lack of sex.  Stan compensated quite well.  He rarely hungered for sex and could attain it in the most surprising situations.  A good counselor would tell Julie to join an anonymous alcohol addiction program and for Stan to join an anonymous sexual addiction organization.  What the counselor would not know was that Stan already was an active member of such an organization and quite popular with the women members to the point that it had exacerbated his addiction.  Weekly, he confided in his church’s confessional and the priest generally said, I see, my son, now tell me more. 

Despite Stan’s shortcomings, he considered himself a good father, great lawyer and a mediocre Catholic which came with a modicum of guilt.  So, Stan provided handsomely, allowed Julie to make family decisions for Peyton and assuaged his guilt by over favoring Tricia.  Tricia loved the role of ‘daddy’s little girl’ and milked it for all it was worth.  Tricia saw her household as a family of two alliances.  That would be her mother and her brother against her dad and herself.  Stan would concur.

Banks’ New Look

Banks sat in a barber’s chair.  He pointed to a picture of a white movie star in a people magazine.  His barber looked at the hairstyle.  I want it cut like this.  The barber took a long look at the picture. 

The barber nodded as he said, A lot of hair is coming off.  Banks removed his trim glasses as the barber asked, What happened to your thick glasses? 

Banks smiled, Don’t need them anymore.  The barber began his magic. 

Meanwhile, across the street, inside Judge Evelyn Sands’ chambers, a pair of lovers climaxed at the same time.  On top was Evelyn and on the bottom was Stan Powers.  Evelyn groped for her glasses.  She resembled a past governor of Alaska.  The couple dressed quietly.  As Evelyn put on her judge’s robe, Stan attempted to embrace her.  She reacted quickly with a back-pedal, My best to the kids, Stan. 

Stan responded, Tricia’s going on sixteen and—

Evelyn interrupted, It was rhetorical, Stan.  I don’t like my weekly lube and oil complex.   Trying at a moment of intimacy, Stan went for her arm for a goodbye embrace but once again she countered by retreating to her desk.  There was a long pause between the couple.  Evelyn perused her legal instruments.  Then she glanced at her watch and puffed a sound announcing her discontent.  He was still there with a hurt, boyish countenance.  Finally, she sarcastically queried, Did you want your parking validated? 

Stan made one final move towards her, but she picked up her gavel and slammed it on the table, Court is adjourned.

As the barber shook talcum powder, Banks grabbed his trim glasses.  He stared in the mirror in front of him.  He took a bit of the powder and rubbed it on his cheeks.  The barber was amazed, Wow you look just like the guy in the magazine...Zac something or other.  But Banks was not thinking about Zac, he was thinking, White!  Yes, Banks Blackhorse was transforming.  Banks looked at his wristwatch as if he had a prearranged appointment.  The other party had no idea that his moves had been studied by Banks and Banks put his calculated plan into effect.   

Stan walked to his car adjusting his tie as a waving Banks ran after him.  Mr. Powers! 

Stan turned around, Is that you Banks?  Why of course it is...something is different...something is better.  How is summer going? 

Banks responded what he had rehearsed, I miss the kids, especially Peyton, Mr. Powers.  Banks worked this opportunity well.  

Stan smiled and said, Yep, he always mentions you...say, come over for dinner tonight.  I’ll call Julie...let’s shoot for six.  Banks thought that this was perfect. He manipulated this moment including dinner with the family.  Finally, Banks Blackhorse was granted audience to the top of the world.

In a state of ecstasy, Banks was proud of this ‘chance meeting.’  All that time he had followed Stan Powers to the Judge’s office had paid off.  Banks smiled and felt proud jubilation for his successful plan execution as the Monarch Raven looked on.

At the Tlingit compound, in Marilyn White Owl’s apartment, Banks looked on as Marilyn chopped off the head of a wiggling fish.  Marilyn, it’s my first white dinner...what should I bring? 

She picked up the dead fish, You can never go wrong with halibut.  She laughed at him. 

Not appreciating her sense of humor, he added, Marilyn, I’m serious. I want to do everything—  

Everything white. Marilyn interrupted, I know.  I know.  Okay, I’ll tell you, but Chief will be pissed.  Banks angered, and Marilyn gave in: "Wine, flowers or chocolate. The rich white people like to imbibe amongst the scent of lovely flowers. Then, once finished with dinner, they eat sweets to prepare for a