by Adele Niles
But I still can’t forget Zane’s cruel words. So I start walking again.
Unfortunately, there is little in Maiden’s Fork to distract me from my thoughts, and I find myself sinking into gloom, until I hear the joyous sound of a small boy laughing.
I love kids, so I gravitate toward the sound. It’s coming from a small, old house, and as I get nearer, I can see there is a tiny attached garage. The garage door is open, and the light is on.
And, as I get closer, I hear another voice—Zane.
Zane? What is he doing here? I thought he said he was going to a party at the clubhouse to watch a game. I edge closer, keeping in the shadows.
“There you are, Big Bill,” Zane is saying. “Good as new.”
I peek around the corner to see the little boy dancing around a bicycle and clapping his hands. Zane is putting tools back in a toolbox.
Then I hear another voice. A woman.
“Billy, tell Zane thank you,” she scolds. But she has a huge smile on her face.
The little boy stops and solemnly says, “Thank you Zane.”
Zane ruffles his hair. “You bet, big guy. Can’t have a man goin’ without his ride!”
The little tyke immediately jumps on the bike and takes off.
The woman calls out, “Be careful!” Then she turns to Zane, shaking her head. “Thank you so much.”
Zane grins and stoops to finish picking up the tools.
“It’s been so hard with Billy’s dad laid up. I’m afraid he doesn’t get much attention with me having to work and all. I really appreciate the help.”
“No problem,” says Zane. “You just let us know if there’s anything else you need.”
“I will,” she says brightly. Then she pats Zane’s arm and he takes his tools and starts to walk away.
I can see he is going to walk past me if he keeps to his present path, but while I’m trying to decide if I should run or be still, he walks straight up to me and looks me in the eyes.
I inhale sharply. “You knew I was here?”
He shrugs. “You’re my fated mate. I could sense you.”
I take a step back. “I thought you were going to the clubhouse for a game-day party?”
“Billy broke his bike. They needed me here.” He starts to turn away and then turns back. “Sometimes it’s not about us, you know. Sometimes it’s about other people.”
He walks away and after a moment I can hear his bike fire up.
Damn. Who the hell does he think he is, anyway? He doesn’t have to deal with judgmental parents. He doesn’t have to prove his worth. He didn’t just have someone tell him his life’s work was just having fun.
I’m so angry, I walk back to the bed and breakfast in no time.
But later that night, when I’m lying in bed, I hear coyotes howl.
And I miss Zane.
Chapter 18
Zane
Well, that didn’t work.
I can’t let Coraline publish that picture, but on the other hand, I can’t seem to talk her out of it.
I guess I thought if she got all nice and snuggly with me, she’d start seeing things my way. I hate the idea of seducing her to manipulate her—at least I hate the manipulation part—but I guess I said something wrong because she sure got mad.
I go back to the clubhouse and see that the party is over, but Drake and Griffin are still there with their old ladies, Belinda and Shawna.
“Hey, bro,” Drake says when I walk in. “How’s it goin’?”
I grab a brew and a chair and join the group.
“Eh, good and bad. Bad and good.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“Well, me and Coraline were getting along real well at my place, when I brought up that picture she has of me phasing to a bear. She got all ticked off and left.”
Belinda and Shawna look at each other.
“What did you say?” asks Belinda.
“Nothin’! I just said that I thought her hobby of chasing cryptids was cool, but if she published that picture—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupts Belinda. “Didn’t you say Coraline is a YouTuber and she has a channel?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“So she makes money off YouTube, right?” says Shawna.
“Yeah, but—”
“How would you feel if I said being Sergeant at Arms for URSA was a hobby?” asks Belinda.
I hear Drake coughing and see Griffin’s eyebrows go up.
“Hold up,” I say. “That’s not the same.”
But then in hits me.
If she feels as strongly about her work as I feel about mine, then I really did hurt her—and she might just post that picture to get even.
I’ve got to apologize, make her feel better. And I’ve got to stop her from posting the picture.
I stand up and ask, “Who’s the guy that’s the internet provider for Maiden’s Fork?”
Drake fishes a card out of his wallet and hands it over.
“Does he owe us a favor?” I ask.
“A bunch,” says Griffin.
I stand up and head to the door. “Hope you guys don’t need internet tonight.”
There are shrugs all around.
“Or your phones,” I say.
This starts getting some protests, so I head out.
Quick.
* * * * *
I don’t have a problem getting the guy to shut down the internet and broadcast that there are “Technical Difficulties.” I just hope my mission with Coraline goes as easily as this. Especially since I’m starting to see her point.
But when I get to the bed and breakfast, I see I have another problem on my hands.
Howlers.
Legions of them.
They’re surrounding the house and looking mean.
Chapter 19
Coraline
When I see the Howlers coming down the road, I run downstairs and lock every door. Then I go to every room and check it. Luckily, everyone else is gone for the night. I bang on the landlady’s door long enough to convince myself she’s gone, too, and then I grab my phone to call Zane.
But there’s no signal.
I gallop up to my computer and try to get online. I get the message “Technical Difficulties.” Shit. I forgot the phone lines and the internet are the same thing in this rural town.
I run to the window again.
The Howlers are circling the house on their bikes.
What can I do? I have no weapon.
Except one.
I set up my camera.
As I watch, the werecoyotes start doing something strange.
They take their bikes back into the forest and park them behind trees. Then they come out and start rallying around the one I recognize from my encounter in the forest: E. J.
E. J. is pointing and waving his hands around. Then at a signal, all the Howlers start to shapeshift into their werecoyote forms.
It’s a terrible sight to witness. They scream in pain and thrash as their bones and flesh morph from human to coyote.
My camera catches it all.
Finally, they are all phased, and at another signal for E. J. they slink off into the woods.
I hear him yell, “Come out when I tell you! And not a second before!”
So that’s it—this is an ambush.
And I am the bait.
I can’t let this happen to Zane. Because—I just realize—I love him.
But loving Zane is one thing, and knowing how to save him is another.
E. J., in human form, is crouching in the backyard, waiting to signal the ambush, and as I watch him through my camera’s eye, I get an idea.
They aren’t the only ones who can set up an ambush.
I take my camera down the hall to an alcove window and set it up to record what I want to record. I drape the curtains over everything but the lens. I turn it on.
Then I go back to my room and get out an old camera that I was thinking of selling. I wipe it off and remove the l
ens cover. I turn it on and set it so the red “recording” light is blinking.
I open up my window and take a deep breath. I lean out with the camera.
“Hey, E. J.!” I holler. “I recorded your whole horde phasing. I’m going to post all these pictures of werecoyote shifters on the internet and they’re going to come for you with a net.”
Quicker than I would’ve expected, he whips out a gun. I barely duck before the bullet tears through the camera.
I pop back up. “Thanks. Now I got a picture of you shooting at me. They’re going to lock you up where you can be coyote or cow or whatever you want and it’s not going to help.”
I duck as another bullet shatters some wood in the window frame.
I run downstairs just as E. J. starts beating at the back door. I get on the side of a small sideboard and shove.
Thank heaven for polished floors. I slide it in front of the door.
E. J. must hear my furniture rearranging because the next time I hear him, he’s at the front door.
Which is where I want him.
It’ll be hard for him to signal an attack from the back of the house if he’s at the front of the house.
Now what? I’m considering my options when a window shatters to my right.
Not good.
Another one shatters to my left.
Even worse.
But then I hear it. It’s off in the distance but coming closer.
A motorcycle.
Zane.
E. J. hears it just as I do. As I watch, he whips around. Spittle flies from his nasty lips.
Gravel sprays as Zane slides to a stop. He dismounts and stands with fists clenched. E. J. falls back against the door.
But not for long.
I see E. J. go for his gun.
“He’s got a gun!” I scream.
But in the time it takes to say it, Zane closes the distance and kicks the gun out of E. J.’s hand. It flies up and Zane catches it. He breaks it open and dumps the bullets on the ground. He tosses it aside.
Zane and E. J. circle. Then they both drop to all fours and morph in a terrible cacophony of shrieks and howls and snapping bones and tearing skin.
I want to look away, but I can’t. Zane is out there, fighting for me, and it’s my duty to witness this.
It’s finally over. Now a black bear and a werecoyote circle again, Zane’s bear rising to his full six feet and E. J.’s coyote crouching down, looking for an opening.
Zane looks toward the east window. But I’m standing in the west. As E. J. goes for Zane’s exposed throat, Zane’s forepaw comes up and catches E. J. in the jaw. Zane was feigning distraction, smart man.
E. J.’s lower jaw now hangs slack and unaligned. But his upper fangs are as sharp as swords and he sees a way to use them. He lunges forward and sinks them in one side of Zane’s torso. Using his hind legs for leverage, he rakes his fangs through the meat, opening Zane’s belly.
Zane roars, grabs the coyote, and slams him to the ground. He stomps on the coyote’s ribs, pinning him down. He gives a great bellow and latches his massive jaws on E. J.’s neck.
Terrible damage is inflicted on the coyote, but I know from shifter legend he can overcome these wounds. The only way a shifter can die is to bleed out, be wounded by silver, or to have its head severed.
Which means this horror could go on. And on.
I see Zane’s bear is starting to weaken. He’s swaying more. He’s breathing hard. The coyote is panting, too, but he’s steadier on his legs. The bear backs toward the woodshed on the side of the yard. The coyote follows on stealthy feet.
Zane slumps against the wall of the woodshed. His breathing is ragged. I see a flash as his human face starts to appear but then disappears again. Is he having trouble holding his bear? He’s bleeding badly from his stomach wound.
And everything I see, E. J. sees. He knows Zane’s in trouble. Getting weaker.
He slowly creeps closer. Biding his time.
As Zane’s bear slumps against the woodpile, E. J. slinks in.
The coyote snarls as Zane’s bear arms turn human and flop behind him.
Zane’s face emerges. His head falls back.
E. J. leaps for Zane’s throat.
He’s in midair when Zane grabs an ax from the woodpile. It whirls in Zane’s powerful arms and decapitates E. J. in midflight. Blood sprays in the arc of the ax, and two pieces of coyote fall to the ground.
Zane watches the head roll from the body and then collapses on all fours.
I run out of the house crying, screaming, and laughing. I hold Zane in my arms, his back against my chest, and bring the flesh of his belly wound together with my hands.
“We have to get inside! There are more werecoyotes behind the house!”
Zane shakes his head weakly. “No. Without E. J., those cowards will scatter to the four winds.”
So we sit there on the ground and I hold his abdomen together while he heals. We wait as his strength comes back. I kiss him and cry on him and hold him tight.
Finally, after what seems like hours, he looks up at me and smiles.
“You are a worthy mate,” he says.
I start laughing and crying all over again. “Yep,” I say. “And so are you.”
When Zane finally feels like walking, he leans on my shoulder and we limp inside. Once I have him on my bed, I’m able to look at his wounds more closely and see he’s healing properly.
He asks me to go get the walkie-talkie out of his saddle bag. He uses it to get in touch with Drake and tell him an abbreviated version of what happened.
Then I hear Drake asking over the walkie-talkie, “Should I turn everything back on?”
I look at Zane and feel indignation washing through me, along with admiration. “You turned off the internet and the phone so I wouldn’t send that picture.”
He gives me a one shoulder shrug and a half smile.
I give him a mock dirty look. “Go ahead,” I yell into the walkie-talkie to Drake. “I’m deleting that picture tonight.”
Zane reaches out and pulls me into him. “What changed your mind?”
“Well,” I say. “I did some soul searching and decided my true passion is the paranormal—not making money. I want to learn about paranormal creatures because I love them, not to exploit them. We are all beings on this beautiful planet, and everyone has a right to privacy. If I ever hurt a paranormal, I would be hurting myself.”
I snuggle as close to him as I can without hurting him. He kisses the top of my head.
“And as far as my friends and family are concerned,” I say, “if they don’t approve of me now for who I am, then they are never going to approve of me, no matter what I do. So I need to focus on approving of myself.”
He rumbles a sound of affection and love.
I smile and walk my fingers up Zane’s chest. “And why would I want to go cryptid hunting when I’ve got the cutest cryptid in the world right here?”
Zane leans down and kisses me. Soon we are entangled and kissing and petting and loving each other.
“Hmm,” I say. “Someone’s feeling frisky. Too bad you’re all torn up.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” says Zane. “I could probably get up a little enthusiasm if someone else were to do all the work…”
That’s all the invitation I need. Zane’s already naked from his phasing and I make myself that way pretty darn quick.
I straddle his tight hips with my knees and lower myself onto him. I place my mouth against his and run my hand across his chest. I ride him gently at first and then more strongly as I feel my control slip away. Soon I feel the stretch and pull of maddening friction as the passion in my belly builds.
“Zane, oh Zane,” I pant. “I love you.”
I peak in glorious waves as he groans and then releases beneath me. I collapse across his chest.
We lie that way, together, and listen to each other breathe.
Finally he stirs. He asks, “Did you mean that?”
&
nbsp; I’m confused. “Mean what?”
“When we were making love. What you said.”
I think hard and then remember. “Yes. I meant it. I love you. With all my heart.”
He nods. “Then it’s time.”
“Time? Time for what?”
“Time for me to mark you as my mate. Because Coraline, I love you, too.”
My lungs stop working. I can hear my heart beating. Am I ready for this ordeal? Ready to commit myself for life?
I look into Zane’s deep brown eyes and feel myself falling. “Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”
He lays me gently on the bed. He kisses my forehead, my nose, my mouth, my neck. He moves back my hair and sinks his teeth into my shoulder. It marks me as his mate.
I feel my body arch. I feel pain shoot down my side.
Then I feel tender lips kissing away the pain and I feel his arms gather me in.
He’s gathering me in to where I belong—with him.
Chapter 20
Zane
I can’t believe it’s been three months since Coraline released the footage of the Howlers to the media. It was pretty irritating when hunters, government agents, and cryptid trackers all descended on Maiden’s Fork at the same time. And it was annoying when the URSA had to lie low for a while—though it was funny, too, because everyone was looking for shifters when we were walking right by them.
But nothing bad lasts forever, and these invaders eventually drove the werecoyotes out of Maiden’s Fork. After that, the invaders either left out of boredom or left to keep following the coyote shapeshifters.
Coraline is still fascinated with spirits, ghosts, cryptids, and all other paranormal beasts, and after her exposure of the werecoyotes, her YouTube channel is going strong. But now she’s focused on helping paranormals rather than using them—and viewers seem to like that.
I guess everyone feels a little paranormal once in a while.
In addition, she’s looking forward to an upsurge in views in the near future because she is announcing today we are expecting our own bouncing baby paranormal in not many months!
Of course it could be a human instead, which would be just as wonderful to us.
But I don’t know. I’m thinking URSA.
Why?
Because the other day we were lying in bed and I asked Coraline if she was hungry, and she said no.
