HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  No, not again. Please…

  No. I saved her. I did save her this time.

  No matter what fears had haunted me, they were gone now.

  Clouds could cover the sky, but the Coyote Moon still shone down.

  With an enormous burst of energy, I dug my claws into the ground and reared up, throwing the creature from me. Darting forward, numb to my own pain, I saw Maxwell lift his hand, metal flashing, and I leaped. Our bodies met and I knocked him aside.

  When he tried to rise, I pinned one of his arms and a rush of energy went through me.

  The man blinked and the yellow drained from his eyes. Bewilderment and fear rushed over his face. Suddenly he shrieked and rolled away from me, trying to jump to his feet.

  Did I just heal him?

  Then he saw the Ash Walkers, along with the other Pale Eyes, and my brothers fighting. A wail came from his throat and then he toppled over.

  I snorted. Of course.

  “How did you do that?” screamed the Crooked Man from behind me.

  I turned, seeing in some surprise that he was back to his human form, if you could call it that. Shifting back to my own, I glanced at Maxwell and grinned. “Little trick I picked up.”

  “That’s impossible!” he snarled, licking his lips, and his eyes darted around.

  An idea was occurring to me. “Not for a healer.” I took a step forward. “In fact, I’m betting I could probably heal whatever the hell happened to you, too.”

  For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw a flicker of humanity in the Crooked Man’s eyes, but then it was gone, and he was snarling, lashing out a whip of shadows at Hazel.

  It was you the other night! You poisoned her! Anger ripped through me as I swung her out of harm’s way. “You bastard,” I growled. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

  “You alright, Ben?” Burr boomed, coming up next to me, and cracking his knuckles. His hair was wild, eyes lit with fervor, and his lip curled at the Crooked Man. “Who the hell are you?”

  Rayner, Cree, and Wes came over. Cree and Wes were still coyotes, and Wes snarled, showing his canines, and Cree’s fur puffed out, while Rayner studied him carefully.

  “You’re how the Ash Walkers got through the wards.” Rayner’s voice was filled with disgust. “Power like that takes a toll. Must be why you had to change back from that fell beast.”

  Glancing behind me, I realized the Ash Walkers were taken care of, the Pale Eyes gone, and Maxwell was still passed out on the forest floor. I grimaced. I’d hoped to try out my healing on another Pale Eye, but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen.

  Turning back to the Crooked Man, I snapped, “You picked the wrong family to mess with. Time to finish what we started, unless you want to start talking, or better yet, surrender.”

  He started laughing and my brothers and I stiffened. Flashing us a twisted grin, he said, “Perhaps another time. I’m not really in the surrendering mood, today. Seeing as how I won.”

  “No!” Hazel suddenly cried out. “Ben, stop that thing!”

  Spinning around, I saw a tiny shadowy imp scuttling across the forest floor, holding the moonstone high. Instantly Cree, Wes, and I raced after it. Cree soon outpaced us. In another second, he had the thing nearly pinned, but then the Crooked Man appeared, grabbing the stone, and vanished.

  We skidded to a halt in our shock.

  “How?!” I snarled, slamming my fists into my thighs. “No! You’ll pay for this!”

  “Did you get it?” Hazel burst from the trees behind us, panting, Rayner and Burr jogging next to her. When I shook my head, she fell to her knees, and let out a soft sob. “No, no, it’s all my fault. I should have given it to you, let you hold onto it. I’m so sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry to all of you.”

  My brothers glanced at her in surprise, then at each other, and at me.

  Walking over to her, I dropped to my knees, pulled her hands from her face and held them against my cheeks. “Hazel, are you kidding me? You helped me remember who I am. Now I can heal Pale Eyes, give them back their lives. We saved Maxwell from a terrible fate. Do you know how amazing and powerful that is?” Her lip trembled and I shook my head. “Yes you do. It was all you. You found the moonstone. So we Brothers will get it back, Hazel.”

  “Okay.” She laughed a little, then eyed me with concern. “Ben, you’re pretty beat up.”

  I groaned, turning, and falling back against her, my head on her shoulder. “Don’t I know it. I’m not sure I can move. Hope you don’t mind living here from now on.”

  My brothers had been searching the area around us and were now trotting back.

  “Good job fighting that thing, Benny,” Rayner said, pride flashing in his eyes. “You were winning, that’s why that slippery bastard vanished on us.”

  “Badass,” Burr agreed, “but we’re going to have to be smarter next time.”

  Nodding wearily, I glanced around the scene. Overhead, the clouds were breaking apart, the deep blue of twilight fading to night appearing, along with the stars. The full moon glowed brightly, then vanished, almost as though it were winking.

  Next to me, Cree was panting, his tongue lolling out and his fur sticking up everywhere. Wes was sitting bolt upright, sniffing the breeze. Burr had laid back on the ground, his eyes on the sky, and the smell of wood smoke lingered on him. Just beyond us, Rayner stood, gazing around at the woods, lost in thought. Each of us was mud-splattered, covered in bruises and scrapes.

  Hazel had her chin on my shoulder, hands pressing down on my heart as though to make sure it was still beating. Aches hammered through my body, but suddenly a laugh escaped me.

  Everyone looked at me and I looked at Hazel.

  Here we were. Two coyotes, three coyote shifters, and a reincarnated shaman, by the looks of it. One who I had loved in a past life. Or lives.

  What a scene we made.

  “What is it?” Hazel’s eyes were huge in her face.

  “You sure about staying?” I asked dryly, casting an eye around at the scene again, and the looking back her. I smiled. “No hard feelings if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Never in a million years, Coyote,” Hazel said, her voice stern, but her eyes dancing. “Yes, I’m staying.” Looking around at my brothers, she let out a satisfied sigh. “This is my destiny, too.”

  Wind rushed through the woods then, carrying the clouds away, and the woods were lit with moonlight. With a groan, I got to my feet and we headed back.

  My arm was slung around Hazel’s shoulders and we walked a ways behind the others. In my ear, she whispered, her voice full of happiness, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

  Chapter 17

  Two months later

  As the truck rumbled down Highway 83, the sunshine warmed the windshield and lit the thick pines lining the road in every hue of green. The windows were cracked and I listened to the whistle of the wind, glad we had the radio off. Exhilaration filled me at being on the open road, sitting next to Ben, and looking forward to the next few weeks together.

  Ben was driving, his big hands sure on the steering wheel, and his tan darker now that summer was almost at an end. A hint of autumn was in the air. Overhead the sky was a deeper, steadier blue, and some trees were already starting to turn as September waned.

  We were on our way to visit a friend of the Elders, a Navajo man named Sani, who lived at the edge of the Medicine Bow-Routt Forest in Colorado.

  It was hard to believe only two months had gone by since so much had happened.

  On the night of the attack, Ben and I were walking behind the others, when he’d begun to drag, and struggled to catch his breath. Burr had picked him up piggy-back, even though he protested, saying he was fine. Rayner had already retrieved Maxwell and had him slung across his shoulders, too. It would have been amusing if I hadn’t been so terrified.

  Aunt Sil had been anxiously waiting for us, along with the rest of the Elders, whom she’d hastily introduced as Burr slung Ben down from his back,
and onto the first available couch.

  Fern, Pea, Big Bear, and Crowfoot had welcomed me, their eyes studying me as I walked in, and I could sense that they knew what I was. Who I was. And they’d smiled at me.

  As for the rest of that night, I was exhausted, with a pounding headache, bloody bandages, and Ben struggling not to wince as Pea stitched up his wounds. He’d lost so much blood.

  Even though I could tell they wanted to know the whole story, once Ben was stable, they’d made us clean up and eat.

  At some point, Big Bear had vanished for a few hours, driving Maxwell to a local hospital and claiming he’d found him by the side of the road. Fern assured us he wouldn’t remember a thing – nothing but a vague impression of what had happened, like a nightmare.

  And as irritating as Maxwell had been, I was glad to hear that.

  Sometime during the night, too, Whitsy had appeared, looking ashen, and conferring with Aunt Sil and Pea in an undertone. I was too tired to be surprised that he knew what was going on.

  Later I found out Whitsy had discovered the identity of the bodies. Two team members had been killed, along with a local hiker. Even now, my stomach clenched with pain and guilt. They’d merely come to see if they could salvage anything from the site and had run into Ash Walkers.

  It was at that moment I fully understood why Ben had wanted to send me away.

  It was dawn when Pea finished completely with Ben and he was eating breakfast. Most of his wounds had already started to heal, but it would be a week or so till he was at full strength.

  The Crooked Man, as Ben named him, had taken a lot out of him.

  It was in those chilly dawn hours when we finally all came together – myself, Whitsy, the Elders, and the Hotshot Brothers – and discussed what had happened. I’d told my side of the story, feeling a little shy for some reason, and then Ben had told his.

  After that, Wes had held up some sketches he’d made of the Crooked Man.

  Aunt Sil had gasped, and the rest of the Elders had stirred uneasily, looking at each other.

  “Our worst fears realized,” sighed Crowfoot. “A Skinwalker.”

  A shudder went around the room at his words.

  Part of Navajo tribe lore, Skinwalkers were not shifters, but shamans who’d delved too greedily into their craft. In abusing their powers for their own means, shapeshifting into multiple animals and calling upon dark forces, their souls started to decay and ultimately rotted into a void – into which rushed ancient evils and malice – thus, filling it with both cunning and despair.

  “Yet like no Skinwalker we’ve seen before,” Aunt Sil had said, taking Wes’s notebook. “I wonder if this was a shaman. Or if this was someone who strayed too far down the wrong path.”

  Looking over her shoulder, I’d been amazed at how well Wes had captured the creature. The Skinwalker seemed alive and a shudder had run down my spine. I’d had no idea Wes was such a talented artist. But when I’d said as much to him later, he’d shrugged it off.

  Pea was peering over Sil’s other shoulder and had shaken her head, “This creature influences the Ash Walkers, has some power to corrupt humans into slaves, and strength that matches our boys? A dangerous corruption of nature, indeed. One that cannot be allowed to last.”

  Big Bear shifted in his seat, having just returned from dropping off Maxwell. “We should consult Sani. He is Navajo and he will know better than us about the Skinwalker.” Rubbing his jaw, he sighed. “One has not walked these lands in a long time. I’d hoped they never would again.”

  An uneasy silence had fallen after that, one which was broken by Cree.

  “Can this happen to us?” He’d asked, his cheeks pale. “I never thought we were monsters…”

  “You’re not!” Aunt Sil had said sharply, slapping the notebook closed. “This is different. As Pea said, it’s a corruption. Now, it’s been a long night, and you all need rest. We’ll reconvene later.”

  Cree had looked unconvinced but filed out of the room with the rest of us.

  The following week was a happy one, in spite of the grim shadow of the Skinwalker. The house was filled with people, conversations lasted long into the night, and the Elders wove stories to help us sleep.

  However, a week later, barely days after Ben had recovered, he and his brothers were called to join a hotshot crew. A forest fire had broken out to the south of us and they’d been gone a few weeks.

  To pass the time while Ben was gone, I’d worked with Whitsy. It was then he’d told me he was going to employ me long distance to help him with what we had left from the survey. I’d basically be a freelancer historian. When I’d tried to protest, or at least get him to lower how much he was going to pay me, he’d refused, and eventually I gave in. It was perfect for my new life.

  However, in addition to helping Whitsy, I’d tried to also research what I could into the Crooked Man. And while I did get to spend time with the Elders, talking to them about my gifts, and helping them, I’d constantly missed Ben. It was hard to fall asleep without him by my side. Sometimes I had nightmares, seeing him surrounded by fire, and woke up gasping.

  One moment the house had been full of five rowdy brothers, and the next day it was quiet, and far too empty. It had been hard not to worry or feel lonely.

  But finally, four days ago, the Hotshots had returned, in the middle of the night. They had tried to be quiet, but I’d woken up instantly and flew downstairs into Ben’s arms. They’d all looked haggard, but had grinned when I offered to make them a midnight snack.

  Later, Ben had fallen instantly asleep in my bed. I’d followed, falling into the best sleep I’d had in weeks. The next morning, I had laid there for hours, content to watch him sleep.

  I’d wanted to wait for him to get up, but I’d gotten hungry and slipped out. He didn’t stir till late afternoon. I saw him talking to Big Bear and Aunt Sil, but I didn’t find out about what until the next day, when he pulled me aside and asked me to go to Colorado with him.

  “Colorado? To see Sani… or…” I’d left the question unfinished.

  “To see Sani and then visit my family, yeah,” Ben had said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s long past when I should have gone back to see them, and I should visit Grandad’s grave.”

  When I’d told Ben about the Waiting Place a few weeks ago, he’d been unable to speak, and had buried his face against me. His breathing sounded wet and his shoulders had shaken. Holding him, I hoped this would help heal that childhood wound in his heart.

  “How long will we be gone?” I had asked, already mentally packing.

  “A few weeks.” He’d averted his eyes, mumbling, “I get it if you don’t want to. It’s a lot of driving… Probably take us two or three days to get down there.”

  “Ben, I’m going. In fact, I’m going to pack right now,” I’d said, walking into the house and throwing him a smile over my shoulder.

  He’d stared after me, then suddenly followed me into the house and dragged me upstairs.

  So I didn’t end up packing that day after all.

  Now, glancing over at Ben, our eyes met, and we both smiled. Inwardly, I couldn’t believe I had him to myself for a few weeks. Again. Only this time with no secrets between us.

  Suddenly Ben slowed the truck down, pulling down a half-hidden dirt road, and I sat up straight. “Ben, where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” was the only response I was given.

  “Beeennn,” I groaned. “Come on, no secrets. No fair.”

  “What’s not fair is that tight tank top you’re wearing,” he retorted, and I grinned. Since the fight with the Crooked Man, Ben had completely relaxed into his usual self. He laughed easily, teased me all the time, tugged on my hair, called me “Sunshine,” and flirted like the rogue he was.

  That wasn’t to say he wasn’t still serious at times, falling into brooding, or getting caught up in a book for hours, or in a discussion about medicine, history, and so forth. But he wasn’t shutting the world out. He wasn
’t blaming himself anymore.

  Finally, Ben had forgiven himself.

  When he’d told me how he’d run out on his brothers, I hadn’t really given it much thought at the time. But now, after spending time with the Hotshots, I could see why he’d struggled to forgive himself. The five of them were the definition of a team. They needed each other; their individual strengths propped each other up, making them a formidable force.

  Only together could they take down a Skinwalker like the Crooked Man.

  Pulling to a stop, Ben hopped out and came around the truck. Holding out a hand, he helped me down and then led me through the woods. There was barely a hint of a trail, and I was about to ask where we were going, as thirty minutes had gone by, when the trees abruptly fell away.

  My mouth dropped.

  We were standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, a river next to us gushing over the edge, and staring out across the world, it seemed. I’d been thousands of places, but I had never seen a sight quite like this. It almost felt like a window to a wilder, freer past.

  Southwards, a great river sparkled in the sun, mountains following it. But there was a wide valley splitting them and one could gaze all the way to the curved horizon. North, it was all tall mountains and the snow on their peaks creeped downwards as winter approached.

  Everywhere, pops of color burst out among the green. A maple turning red, a sugar maple already golden, and a sassafras full of bright orange. Towards the south, a stately grove of aspens had gone yellow and looked as though a drop of sunlight had splashed onto the forest.

  “Sometimes I think I like this early part of fall the best,” Ben mused, gazing out at the valley. “But then all the trees start turning and I change my mind.” He laughed lightly.

  “Did you find this place on one of your runs?” I asked, as I now knew about how Ben had searched for the Deadlands on his own. He’d told me and his brothers the day after the attack, prompting Burr and Wes to threaten throwing him into a pond.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t think many people know about it, otherwise I’m sure they’d cut down all those trees to make this a scenic overpass. It’s a hike.”