HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  “Um, sure. Okay,” I said, and walked stiffly over.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up straight and frowning at me.

  “Nothing,” I said, my voice shriller than I meant it to be. “Just cold.”

  “Hm.” Wes raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. “Your breakfast is keepin’ warm, let me get it.”

  Sitting down as he got up, I crossed my legs and kept my back straight, feeling as stiff as a statue. But I couldn’t relax. Nor could I not enjoy the scene of Wes taking care of me. Oh no, I was enjoying it far too much.

  After breakfast, I helped him pack up the site. As I suspected, Wes was every inch a Boy Scout, insisting we leave no trace we’d ever been there. It warmed my heart, and I wanted to tell him how much I admired that, but I was quiet as a mouse the entire time. I still hadn’t figured out how to apologize to him without making things unbearably awkward.

  When we were done, I once again followed Wes through the woods. Tendrils of fog looped around the trees in a dell below us, while overhead the sky was a pale blue. With every exhale, my breath puffed in the air, and I thought, Damn, isn’t Arizona supposed to be nice and warm year-round? Isn’t that why people live here?

  For a while we walked in complete silence, then Wes stopped dead. Swinging around, he loomed over me and scowled. “Okay, Kalin. What the hell is wrong?”

  “What?” I gaped at him. “N-Nothing.”

  Wes looked uneasy under his scowl. “Nothing, huh? Yeah right.” He swallowed, then asked in a gruff voice, “Did I upset you somehow?”

  “What?” I burst out. Behind his head, I thought I saw a flock of birds take off from a tree. Wincing, I continued, in a voice barely above a whisper, “No, no, Wes. Not at all. Um, it’s just that I’ve been trying to think of how to say this.” I paused, then rushed on, “First, I’m so sorry. I took advantage of your kindness last night and I shouldn’t have. And I won’t again. See, I usually don’t ever ask people for anything, but you were being so nice and I was…” I trailed off as he stared at me.

  Then his face twitched, and he erupted into a howl of laughter, throwing his head back.

  My face flamed. “What? What’s so funny?” I snapped.

  “You.” Wes was struggling to stop laughing. “Kalin, you kill me, you really do. First, you’re as feisty as a wildcat, then you’re here, acting like a shy little rabbit.” He shook his head. “You’re worryin’ about the wrong thing there, sweetheart.”

  Jaw working as I tried to find something to say, I finally got one word out, “What?”

  “It was no problem.” Wes looked down at me and a gentle smile spread across his face. “So stop buggin’ out about it and start talkin’ again. Jeez, I’m missin’ Miss Feisty.”

  A huff escaped me. “But I should apol–”

  Wes poked my chin. “Let me stop you right there.” His hazel eyes were stern. “No apologies. I know what you’ve been through.” Then his face relaxed. “You could, however, say thank you.”

  I nodded, smiling as his eyes twinkled. “I do owe you several, huh?” I paused. “Thank you.”

  “Alright then,” Wes drawled and began walking again. “Now that we got that cleared up, let’s get movin’ and you tell me about how on earth you can like Jurassic Park more than Star Wars.”

  Smiling, I jogged to catch up with Wes and in no time we fell back into our easy way of talking about everything and anything. However, I was a bit more distracted than yesterday. Something kept tugging at my heartstrings, and every so often, that unruly muscle would decide to skip a beat or two.

  The rest of that day passed in a blur of walking and talking, with the occasional stop to rest and eat. That night, I fell asleep on my own, though I couldn’t stifle the memory of Wes’s arms around me. It took me a lot longer to fall asleep. Something that would become almost a routine the following nights.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had a crush, and I had it bad.

  It was unlike any crush I’d ever had before, too – a tumult of feelings that had me reeling from a glance or a touch alone. With that deep drawl, Wes sent my heart spinning into the stratosphere. A squeeze on the shoulder made my knees buckle. His laugh wrapped around me like an embrace and his scent drove me to distraction. And his smooth dark skin, rippling with muscles, made me bite my lips and blush.

  One night he took his shirt off and I almost fainted, I swear. I had to quickly pretend to be absorbed in unknotting a shoelace and nearly tied my fingers to my boots.

  But I tamped those feelings down. Because, as I’d nearly told Wes that first night, I was out of his league. No way would a gorgeous wildland firefighter want a big-mouthed photographer who couldn’t get a handle on herself and was barely an adult.

  And with each passing day, as I got to know Wes, I could see what a good, solid man he was. He had an endearing nobleness to him – an earnest, serious streak a mile wide. He cared deeply about people, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind that growly exterior.

  Simply put, Wes deserved the best. The whole package. Beauty, brains, and everything else.

  In a way, though, the torture and the bliss of spending day after day with him served as a welcome distraction. A week had passed since Wes and I had struck out, and worry about my sister weighed on me more each day. It was as though I was slowly being coated in layers of cement.

  Sometimes, I’d wake in the middle of the night, my hand pressed to my chest, and my mind caught in a cobweb of nightmares about Trini. I kept seeing her walking away from me, never once turning back – no matter how much I screamed and begged her to.

  However, it was in those moments, in the loneliness of being awake in the middle of the night, where I had to restrain my feelings the most. Clenching my fists, I’d will myself not to make a sound, cry, or crawl over to Wes for comfort.

  Thankfully, we’d started zipping up the divider between us after that first night, which helped my resolve. It served as a reminder to keep my distance.

  It’s for the best, I would tell myself.

  I couldn’t indulge my feelings any further.

  Oh man, though, if only I could actually convince myself that was the case.

  The further we went into the mountains, the sharper the cold became. It was a good thing Wes had brought an extra hat, as I was sure my ears would have fallen off by now without it.

  Every morning it was a struggle to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag, then the tent, and plunge towards the water to wake and wash up. We’d made it to the Colorado River, snaking between Nevada and Arizona, and were now following it northwards to Lake Mead. Ten days had now passed, and in the last four, all I’d wanted more than anything was a hot bath.

  Shivering as I walked over the reddish sand, I rubbed my arms and then knelt down to splash water on my face. Then, after soaking a rag, I subtly tried to wipe myself down, even though I knew it was futile at this point. The red dust was part of me now. At least I didn’t smell since it was too cold to sweat.

  “Ugh,” I muttered. Getting to my feet, I walked back to Wes, who was peering at a map. “What is with this weather? It’s freezing…in the desert! That’s just wrong.”

  “Deserts lose heat overnight. No humidity to keep the air warm, you know? But yeah, it is about 20-30 degrees colder than it should be,” Wes responded, still poring over the map. Then he folded it up and sighed. “Even for late fall, it’s not normal.”

  “Does the Crooked Man have something to do with this?” I asked, frowning.

  Wes’s eyes filled with dark amusement. “He does cast an ugly shadow.”

  That doesn’t really answer my question, I thought, but I nodded and picked up a granola bar for breakfast. Glancing around me, I watched as the sun crept over the scrubby hills, scattering the gray shadows, and revealing a country tinted amber.

  It had been a shock when the woods of River Hills fell away about a week ago, revealing nothing but dry, rocky desert. The sky was huge and seemed to overlap the edges of the
horizon. And the quiet got into your blood. Sometimes it helped take the edge off my anxiety.

  But there was a remoteness to this country, and at odd hours, it both subdued and wore away at me. It was then that I couldn’t bring myself to talk or even think. I just took one mindless step after another, feeling trapped in an endless world of wind and walking.

  At night, though, it was a different story. Far away from the city lights, the sky became a spangled glory of galaxies. That first night we’d spent in the desert, Wes and I had sat in silence for over an hour, watching for shooting stars.

  After that, we spent at least an hour stargazing every night. Wes knew all the constellations and even the names of different stars. When I’d asked him to teach me, he’d been adorably flattered. Then he’d get excited and beam with pride whenever I remembered one.

  There were times, though, when the lack of trees and emptiness was unnerving. There was a sense of constant exposure. However, at least now by the river, the mountains walled off the east, giving the illusion that whatever was after us was on the other side. Also, the riverbank was a flatter, easier trek than the one we’d had to take to get here.

  For me at least. Wes probably didn’t care one way or the other – his stamina was mind-boggling. He’d brushed off my voiced amazement at it on the second day, however. According to him, it was nothing, since all wildland firefighters had to be freakishly strong. It did make sense; his job entailed lugging pounds upon pounds of equipment up mountains to put out enormous fires.

  And he apparently climbed mountains when he wasn’t working. To that, I’d said, "Must have been a lot of mountains,” and he’d just laughed.

  But I’d meant it. Wes made those Ironman triathletes I’d photographed in Hawaii look like amateurs. Those were people who spent years and years training for that one event. Who sometimes passed out and spent weeks recuperating.

  I was sore all the time, but Wes was as fresh as a daisy every day.

  Altogether, I now had to wonder if he hadn’t exactly been kidding when he said that Spider-Man had nothing on him.

  When I wasn’t jabbering Wes’s ear off, worrying about Trini, or dead tired from walking, I’d while away the hours speculating about Wes and the Hotshot Brothers. Maybe they were superheroes in a way. They certainly had the strength and stamina.

  More than once, too, I’d seen a flash in Wes’s eyes I couldn’t explain. It was a strange light, alluring and uncanny at the same time. And sometimes the way he ran, moved, or even held his head, was far too graceful and studied for a normal human. He’d remind me of the way leopards streaked across the ground, or a bear hunched its shoulders before charging, or the way a fox went still when it sensed danger.

  Then there was the incident with the birds the other morning.

  I’d woken up earlier than usual, after having a nightmare about Trini vanishing into a shadow edged with flame. Wes, of course, was already up and had a fire going. Crawling out of the tent quietly, not in the mood to talk, I’d glanced at him on my way to the river. Then I stopped and did a double-take.

  He had been sitting with his back to me and a bird was perched on his shoulder. I swear it had given me a sassy look. About six more birds were in a semi-circle on the ground in front of him.

  Rubbing my eyes, I stared for a long minute, then took a step forward. The birds were beautiful – their heads rosy red-orange, breasts bright yellow, and wings inky black.

  I’d never seen birds like that before.

  I’d never seen birds act like that before.

  At that moment, just as I was about to take another step, the wind had shifted, carrying the murmur of his deep tones. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I’d gotten the distinct impression he was having some kind of morning conference with those birds.

  Eyes wide, I’d blurted out, “What the hell?” and my feet had scraped on the rocks.

  The birds made a chorus of protest, some taking off and squawking at me. But the one on Wes’s shoulder remained put and fixed me with a beady glare.

  “Hey, good morning,” he’d said, twisting around, and his face crinkling up in amusement. “Some western tanagers joined me for breakfast.” At that, the bird on his shoulder took off. I watched the gold streak zip away, and then looked back at Wes, jaw on the ground. He’d shrugged. “Learned how to coax birds to trust me from my grandfather. No big deal. You hungry?”

  “Okay…” I’d breathed, then I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder at the river. “Yes. Be right back. Thanks.”

  Even two days later, though, that bird thing still stunned me. Wes had tried to play it off, but I couldn’t let it go. Not only was it amazing, but there something about the studied casualness of his comments that stuck in my head. Why was he so insistently indifferent about it? There were so many things about Wes and his brothers that were both stunning and confusing, though. Sometimes it was hard to pin down one thing to wonder about.

  They possessed knowledge of a world that shouldn’t exist. They also apparently knew how to take down dark, occult forces at work. Ben could heal, or potentially heal, whatever enthralled my sister and those others. I suspected this meant that Wes and the others had hidden gifts as well.

  Finally, there was their enemy, the Crooked Man, who had their other foes, creatures of ash and fire, at his beck and call. What is the Crooked Man trying to do? Can they stop him? What about–?

  “You’re doing it again,” Wes sighed suddenly, bringing me back to the present.

  “What?” I blinked, startled.

  “Lost in your thoughts, staring into space.” His lips twitched. “Sometimes you stare at me, which, of course, I don’t mind.” Now his lips pulled into a smirk as I flushed. “But if something is bothering you…”

  “No, not bothering me.” More like fascinating me. “It’s nothing. I mean I am a bit tired, I guess. Anyways, sorry.” I bit my lip. “I mean, not sorry.”

  Wes laughed but didn’t push me. I appreciated that about him. For as much as I was curious about him and his brothers, I’d decided early on to show him respect for his boundaries. I was determined not pry or question. He was keeping me safe and had promised to get my sister back.

  It would be too much to ask him for anything else.

  As usual, we packed up camp, shouldered our bags, and headed north. My backpack’s weight was familiar now, although I often wondered if I’d have permanent indents from the straps.

  In front of me, the tall, strapping man striding along had become more than familiar. I knew every line of him. Every cadence of his voice. The ripple of emotions across his face.

  Sometimes, though, when Wes fell quiet, sinking into his serious mode, his eyes distant with thoughts, and the silence stretching between us in a companionable way, I’d daydream about meeting him under different circumstances.

  Maybe seeing him across the room in a bar, him laughing it up with his buddies, and wearing a basic navy blue shirt that made his hazel eyes bright. He’d stand out because he was so dressed down. After he saved me from some creep who was being pushy, apologized on behalf of men, and bought me a drink, I’d tease him about that shirt. It would say something like “Fire and Rescue,” of course, probably a prize from a charity pickup basketball game.

  Or meeting him at the beach. He’d be sitting on the sand, contemplating the horizon. Cree would probably be napping, buried in the sand while Burr built sandcastles around him. I wasn’t sure what Rayner would be doing, but Ben would definitely be reading a book. Then Hazel would persuade Ben to go into the water and the rest would follow. Except for Wes.

  No, Wes would have seen me, probably struggling to get a bottle open, or trying to put an umbrella up, only it would have flipped inside out or blown away. He’d come running, no questions asked. That seemed to be the way it went with us. He was always around when I was in trouble…

  Rocks slid and skittered down the hill behind us.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a spiral of dust, but nothing else. Shr
ugging I turned back around. If it didn’t concern Wes, it didn’t concern me.

  Then I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Wes’s tall, broad form was no longer leading the way. There was nothing but river, sky, and rocks. Ahead, there was a sharp bend in the river, around which the trail looped, and then was hidden by a steep wall of red stone jutting thirty feet into the sky.

  I’d been so lost in the clouds about imaginary-Wes that I’d lost sight of the real Wes.

  He’s probably just around the bend, calm down Kalin, I told myself as I picked up my pace.

  Rocks skittered behind me again and the hair along the back of my neck rose up. Breathing harder, I tried to turn my neck in a subtle way to see if there was something behind me. Movement flashed in the corner of my eye and I gasped.

  Spinning around, I quickly glanced from side to side. Nothing was there.

  Then my skin prickled and I looked up.

  “Dios mio,” I breathed.

  Four figures in black were lined against the sky – inked slashes in the pale blue.

  And one of them was my sister.

  Chapter 8

  There was a quiet rhythm to this desert that soothed me. The dry scrape of wind weaving through rocks and sagebrush. The vast expanse of sky. The tumble of water in the river.

  Of course, being outdoors had always agreed with me. It had been that way since I was a child. Especially during that terrible summer after I’d turned ten – when nature became my refuge when everything got to be too much and too hard for a sensitive, grieving kid.

  However, since becoming a Coyote Shifter, that profound connection to the natural world had increased tenfold. It was incredible. As much as I’d wished I could have gone with Burr and Cree, this detour with Kalin was turning out better than I could have imagined. Every morning I woke up feeling like the luckiest guy alive – with her company, this landscape, and my gifts from Old Man Coyote, how could I complain?

  Like all my brothers, I could see and hear things ordinary men couldn’t. Partake in the speech of animals. Fight back the shadows twisted with fire and greed.