Supernatural 8 - Coyote's Kiss

by Christa Faust

  “Did you see either one of them leave since they checked in?” Dean asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “They didn’t come out this way, but there’s another door in the back.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Dean said.

  “My pleasure,” she said. Then she leaned in and said something to Xochi in Spanish.

  “What she’d say?” Dean asked as they walked over to the elevator.

  “She said she wouldn’t let her daughter wear a lip ring.”

  Dean shook his head.

  “Why did you say Claudia was our daughter?” Dean said. “Nobody’s gonna believe that. What, did we have her when we were in high school?”

  “I didn’t go to high school,” Xochi said. “And of course people will believe it. Why wouldn’t they? My own mother was only a year older than Claudia when she had Teo.”

  The elevator came. They got on in silence and rode to the fourth floor. In spite of everything else that was on his mind in that moment, Dean was struck again by the complexity of this strange yoyo connection he felt with Xochi. They had developed an intense foxhole camaraderie almost immediately, and there were times when he felt so close to her, like they had so much in common. Then there were other times, like now, when he really felt the gulf of vast cultural differences that lay between them.

  “You have any kids?” Dean asked as the elevator slowly counted off the floors. He didn’t know why it had never occurred to him to ask before.

  “Someday maybe,” she said. “There is pressure from my family, of course, but I’m not ready. Not yet. Not after what happened to my brother. What about you?”

  Dean thought of Ben. Shook his head.

  “No,” he said.

  The elevator opened on the fourth floor. Xochi got out. She didn’t say anything else. Dean didn’t know what to say either, so he just kept quiet.

  Room 418 was inexplicably right next to the elevator. Dean knocked.

  “Claudia?” he said. “It’s Dean, you in there?”

  The door opened. Sam was standing there with a bottle of water in one hand.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “What the hell happened to you guys?” Sam asked.

  Dean let out a yelp of relieved laughter and pulled his brother into a bear hug, not even caring that Sam just let himself be hugged like a patient dog getting loved-up by an over-enthusiastic toddler.

  “What happened to us?” Dean asked incredulous. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you’d been kidnapped!”

  “Kidnapped?” Sam frowned. “Why would you think that?”

  Dean told him about the call from Bobby. Sam patted his pockets, unable to find his cell phone.

  “Kid bumped into me by the soda machine,” Sam said. “Must have clipped my phone. Man, that’s a pretty good scam.”

  Dean handed Sam the prepaid phone and told him to call Bobby. Xochi headed into the bathroom to change out of her bloody shirt and into a spare tank top. Claudia was sitting on the bed with the TV remote in her hand, scowling at the bolted-down television. Dean could see that she’d been crying again. He felt kind of bad for leaving her alone with Mr. Sensitive. Dean was the first one to admit that he was a lousy grief counselor, but he was Dr. Phil compared to Sam in his current condition.

  He walked over to her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, fresh tears spilling down her chubby cheeks. She stood and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him back a step.

  “Hey, take it easy now,” he said, shifting uncomfortably and looking over at Xochi. “Come on, kid, it’s gonna be okay.”

  That sounded so lame. He wouldn’t even have believed that kind of tripe back when he was Claudia’s age.

  “Listen,” he finally said, extracting himself from her damp clutches and sitting her back down on the bed. “Xochi, Sam and me, we’re not social workers. We’re hunters. I know you’re hurting right now, but there’s nothing any of us can do about that. What we can do is work this hunt, the four of us together. We can beat the evil bitch who’s responsible for what happened to your mom, but in order to do that, we need your help. We need you on the team.”

  “He’s right,” Xochi said. “We need you to be strong now. To be a grown woman. Can you do that?”

  Claudia hung her head, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  Xochi came over and sat beside Claudia, motioning with her chin for Dean to beat it. He was happy to oblige.

  “I’m fine, Bobby,” Sam was saying into the phone. “Really, it was just some kind of scam. The guy probably called every single number on that phone, just to see if anyone would fall for it.”

  Xochi was talking low to Claudia in Spanish. Whatever she was saying seemed to be working. Claudia finally raised her head, swiping at her tears. When she turned to Xochi and saw the shiner, her smudgy raccoon eyes went wide.

  “Whoa,” Claudia said. “What happened to you?”

  “Cops,” Xochi said. “We’d better get out of Nogales.”

  “Cops? Wow.”

  Claudia was obviously tremendously impressed by the idea of Xochi being some sort of outlaw. She turned back to Dean.

  “Are you okay, Dean?” she asked. “Did you get beat up too?”

  “Nah,” Dean said. “Guess I wasn’t their type.”

  “Right, okay,” Sam said to Bobby. “We’ll stay in touch, but in the meanwhile, see what you can dig up on an Aztec goddess called the Clawed Butterfly. How do you spell that name again, Xochi?”

  “I-t-z-p-a-p-a-l-o-t-l,” Xochi replied.

  Sam repeated the spelling into the phone. Nodded, listening.

  “Yeah, that’s her,” he said, smirking at Dean. “Smokin’ hot, actually.” Pause. A laugh. “Tell me about it.” Another pause. “Right, later.”

  “So what do we do now?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam. “We need to get some new wheels, right?”

  “There’s a good chance that the Rover and the bikes may still be where we left them,” Xochi said. “We should at least check it out.”

  “Then what?” Sam asked.

  “If we can score another shotgun,” Dean said, “I’d love to pay a visit to your buddy who makes those silver slugs.”

  “Okay,” Xochi said. “So we head for Chihuahua. We can stop along the way to see if Huehuecoyotl will speak to us. It will be best at night, somewhere far from any cities. Claudia, any idea of where Elvia is now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Claudia said. “I think she doesn’t really know where she is either. Only that she is moving south.”

  “Well, then we better get moving too,” Dean said.

  Sam gathered up his laptop and files and shouldered the bag, while Claudia went into the bathroom to fix her eyeliner.

  “What did you say to her to make her turn off the waterworks?” Dean asked Xochi after Claudia closed the bathroom door.

  “I told her that you like tough girls,” Xochi said.

  “Aw man,” Dean said. “Don’t encourage her. You’re just making it worse.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “It’s not even true,” Dean said.

  “No?” She arched a knowing brow at him, then shrugged. “My mistake.”

  By some crazy miracle, the Rover was right where they had left it, both dirt bikes unmolested in their trailer. The only thing missing was one of the two helmets. And the keys, of course. Confiscated by the cops when Xochi was arrested.

  The kid with the gun seemed to be apologizing profusely for the missing helmet. Xochi gave him more money anyway. He gave them two thumbs-up and scampered off down the street. Dean didn’t want to think about what he would be spending that money on.

  “What did he say?” Sam asked.

  “He said another kid ran off with the helmet,” Xochi said, bending down to pick the driver’s side lock. “And that he would go find that kid and get it back, but I told him we didn’t have time to wait. I told him if he did get it back, he coul
d keep it.”

  She popped the lock and opened the car door, getting in behind the wheel. Dean jumped in the shotgun seat and Sam and Claudia got in the back. Dean watched Xochi swiftly and efficiently hot wire the Rover and start it up.

  “Okay,” she said. “Adios, Nogales.”

  They hit the road.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Dean had no idea where they were or what made Xochi pick this particular spot to pull over. The desert they rode through was virtually identical to what they’d encountered in Arizona, but it still felt infinitely strange and foreign. Wilder, more dangerous. By they time they’d arrived at what Xochi deemed to be an appropriate location, it was full dark.

  “After what happened in Nogales,” Xochi said as she killed the engine. “We stay together no matter what, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “But we’ve only got the two bikes.”

  “No problem,” Dean said. “Claudia can ride with you and Xochi with me.”

  “Why can’t I ride with you?” Claudia asked. “Let Xochi ride with Sam.”

  “I’m sorry, Dean,” Xochi said, ignoring Claudia. “I’m afraid it will be you who will be riding behind me. Someone needs to lead the way, following the ley lines.”

  “You could just tell me which way to go,” Dean suggested, knowing full well that that wasn’t going to happen.

  They got out of the Rover and Sam unlatched the trailer, dropping the ramp and rolling one of the bikes down. Xochi jumped up onto the trailer and tossed the only remaining helmet to Claudia before bringing the other bike down onto the road.

  Claudia pouted and put on the helmet, climbing reluctantly onto the dirt bike behind Sam and locking her arms around his waist. Xochi mounted up on the other and looked back over her shoulder at Dean.

  “Hop on, tough guy.”

  When Dean got onto the bitch seat behind Xochi, he knew right away what he was in for. He hadn’t had a decent, uninterrupted stretch of privacy since he’d started working this hunt, and he knew damn well that if he spent more than a few seconds pressed up against that ass he was going to be loaded for bear. When she cranked the engine and took off into the desert, Dean grabbed the edge of the seat behind him with white knuckles, struggling to maintain a cushion of respectable space between his crotch and Xochi’s ass. But the rugged Sonoran terrain was so challenging that within the first five minutes, Dean had no choice but to hold on to her tiny waist or risk falling off the back like a drunken biker chick.

  They were passing through a desolate, moonlit landscape that could have easily passed for the surface of an alien planet. Cryptic rock formations towered over them and arroyos branched across the bone-dry ground like veins and arteries. Tumbleweeds bounded and spun through their slipstream.

  Dean wasn’t paying attention to any of that. He was too busy trying to think about fat, smelly old bag ladies. Or trying to think about wiping out on the dirt bike and smashing his bare head to bits on the jagged rocks. Or trying to think about pretty much anything other than the way that Xochi’s tight, leather-clad ass was bumping and sliding against him. Trying and failing. She kept on raising and lowering her hips over and over, deftly compensating for the dips and shifting her weight with the twists and curves. It didn’t help that he had to move and shift his own weight with hers, following her lead and leaning with her into the turns to keep the little dirt bike stable beneath them.

  When they came into a narrow box canyon and Xochi braked, then eased the bike to a stop, Dean didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  Sam pulled up beside them, Claudia hopping off and removing the helmet before he’d killed the engine. Dean got down from behind Xochi, using the bulk of the bike to hide what was going on below his belt from Sam and Claudia.

  Xochi put down the kickstand and dismounted, pulling a small Maglite from one of her pockets.

  “Come on,” Xochi said, clicking the flashlight on and focusing it on an indentation in the sand about twelve feet away from the bikes. “This way. See that little clearing?”

  Sam turned on his own light and headed for the indicated clearing. Claudia silently followed him. Dean hung back.

  Xochi looked over her shoulder at Dean.

  “You coming?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Let me just punch myself in the face a few times first.”

  Again, that little half-smile, the arched brow. She turned and headed off after Sam. Watching her walk away really wasn’t helping.

  Dean had no idea how the hell he’d managed to get himself so wound up like this, but he figured he’d let it go just about far enough. The world was full of women with nice asses, and he’d always been able to take them or leave them. Besides, there were plenty of bigger, more important things to worry about right now. Dead serious, end-of-civilization-as-we-know-it kind of things. He needed to start thinking with his big head for a minute and try to put things in perspective. This was nothing serious, just a basic mechanical issue. He’d take care of that as soon as he had a chance, but in the meanwhile he needed to channel Toshiro Mifune or some other equally stone-cold bad ass. Man the hell up and stop acting like a horny teenager.

  He followed Xochi into the little clearing.

  Claudia was gathering kindling, while Sam ran the EMF meter and Xochi laid out a bunch of herbs and ritual tools on a striped blanket.

  “Weird,” Sam said. “I’m getting a pretty strong reading, but it fluctuates. Kind of like a tide coming in and out.”

  He looked up at Dean.

  “You okay?”

  “Peachy,” Dean snapped.

  Claudia looked up at Dean with a worried expression and Dean immediately felt like a jerk.

  “It’s just been a long day,” Dean said, softening his tone. “For all of us.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Xochi said. “What we are doing right now is very dangerous. Not physically dangerous, but emotionally dangerous. Do you understand? Huehuecoyotl is a trickster. He will lie to you, play with you. He will turn any negative emotion against you and turn us against each other just to entertain himself. We have no secrets that he cannot know. If he tries to exploit your most private thoughts and feelings, you can’t let it hurt you.”

  She turned to Sam, taking one of his hands in both of hers.

  “I am trusting you, Sam,” Xochi said. “You must be our anchor, holding us steady in the stormy water of our emotions. Huehuecoyotl will not be able to play with you the way he will play with us. Especially Claudia, because she is most vulnerable.”

  “Man, this is bad,” Dean said. The last thing he wanted was to share his innermost thoughts with anyone. Especially not right now. “Are you sure she should even be here?”

  “We have no choice,” Xochi said. “I need both you and Sam here with me and she cannot be left alone. We must protect her at all times.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Claudia said, placing the sticks she’d gathered in a small pile at the center of the clearing. “You should give me a gun.”

  “Ever handled a firearm before?” Dean asked.

  “Well, no,” she said. “But you could teach me.”

  “We can talk about that later,” Xochi said, stacking the sticks for a fire. “For now I need you all to try and clear your minds. Focus.”

  She lit the kindling with a Zippo and then lit a tight bundle of sage leaves, blowing on the end until it gave off a thick, pungent smoke. She waved her hand to direct the smoke and motioned for Claudia to come forward first. Xochi bathed each one of them in smoke, moving the burning bundle over their bodies. Dean scrunched up his nose, trying not to cough. Trying to clear his mind and not having very much luck.

  He felt like a side of cured bacon by the time she was done. He was pretty sure he was never gonna get this hippy stink out of his clothes and hair. Xochi tossed the rest of the sage into the fire and then started crushing a bunch of other herbs and plants in a wooden cup. She added water and then passed the cup around. Sam took a sip and passed it to Dean. Dean frowned
into the cup, less than thrilled about the muddy, acrid liquid inside.

  “Come on,” Sam said. “Drink up, fannybaws.”

  “What did you just call me?” Dean asked with a baffled frown.

  “Hey,” Sam said. “Unlike you, I didn’t have my head in an airsick bag for the whole flight to Scotland. That cute little blonde stewardess from Dundee taught me all kinds of linguistic curiosities.”

  “I’ll bet,” Dean said.

  “Please,” Xochi said, flashing a warning scowl. “A little respect.”

  “Sorry,” Sam said, swiftly rearranging his features into a more serious expression.

  Dean bit the bullet and took a slug of the strange herbal liquid, trying not to wince at the nasty, bitter taste.

  “Sorry,” he said, picking a twiggy fragment off his lower lip and passing the cup on to Claudia.

  Claudia drank deep without flinching and handed the cup back to Xochi, who drained it. Then she took out her snake-handled stone knife.

  “Now, we cut ourselves,” she touched the tattooed heart on her chest. “Here, over the heart. We must each make a blood sacrifice to Huehuecoyotl.”

  “Awesome,” Claudia said holding out her hand for the knife. “I’ll go first.”

  “I will go first,” Xochi said firmly. “Watch me and do exactly what I do. No joking, okay?”

  Claudia nodded, watching eagerly as Xochi held the blade to her own chest.

  “First, touch the left side of your chest with your fingertips,” Xochi said. “Moving them until you feel a strong heartbeat. When you find the strongest spot, make a small cut, moving the knife upwards, like this.” She flicked her wrist, making an inch long perfectly vertical cut in the center of her tattooed heart.

  “Then, you catch the blood on the blade, like this.” She ran the edge of the knife up the length of the cut, letting the blood flow over the pale stone. “And let the blood run into the flames. Okay?”

  Xochi held the knife out over the fire, then passed it to Claudia.

  Xochi was in her usual tank top. Claudia had on a deep V-neck shirt and Sam a button-down. None of them had any problem exposing the necessary anatomy without removing any clothing. As Dean watched first Claudia and then his brother perform the ceremonial cuts, he really wished he was wearing anything other than a high necked T-shirt. There was just no way around the fact that if he was going to do what Xochi wanted, he would have to remove his shirt. Which wouldn’t be any kind of big deal at all if he didn’t have a crushed-out teenybopper staring at him like he was the second coming of Elvis.