“Yes, I do.” Running a hand through his tousle of brown curls, he stared up at me. “But, can you believe me when I say I heal fast? And I’ll be fine?”
“How? How can I do that? You’re human, Cree, no matter how macho you act.”
He looked away suddenly and peeled off his shoulder’s bandage. I went to stop him and then froze. The wound was gone. Completely healed, with a small shiny scar.
Standing up, Cree gazed down at me. “I’ll be more than okay.”
“So you’re telling me you’re superhuman? You’re what, Superman?” I asked, completely thrown. “How is that possible?”
Letting out a weak laugh, Cree shook his head. “Nah. No capes.”
“I don’t like secrets,” I said. “I think that’s why I’m so attracted to you. You’re honest.”
Cree flinched. “Trust me, I get it. I hate them, too. But this isn’t just my secret.”
“Rayner said the same thing,” I muttered, sitting on the couch and putting a hand over my face. Fear and anxiety were snarling through me, making it hard to think.
The couch sank a little as Cree sat down next to me and put a hand on my head. “Earlier – even now – you seemed more than just freaked out and upset with me. You seemed…”
“Petrified?” I rasped, lowering my hand and looking at him. “I was, Cree. I am.”
“Why?”
“Why?" I snapped. The moment when Cree had vanished into the crowd played in my mind. The frantic, shoving bodies around me, carrying me away from him. Then how it had thinned, and he’d been gone.
My feet had started flying of their own accord, rushing down the walkway towards the fire, looking everywhere for him. I’d finally thought I’d spotted him ahead, ducking down an alley, and I’d sped up to catch him. But when I arrived at the entrance of it, he was nowhere to be seen.
Backtracking, I’d looked everywhere. And I thought I heard gunshots go off.
Heart in my throat, I’d run towards the source of the noise, only to round the corner and see Cree staring at me like I’d caught him red-handed.
Blowing out a breath, I said, my voice more even, “Cree. You told me about your past and its scars. Let me tell you about mine, and what I’m afraid of.” I paused as his hand lifted away from my head and took my hand. I stared down at his tan skin contrasting with my pale fingers.
“You can tell me,” he whispered.
“You were changing while I lit the candles the other night,” I said, still looking down. “You didn’t see how I had to calm myself down and talk myself into using the lighter to light them.” Looking up, I said softly, “Fire, Cree. I’m deathly afraid of fire.”
Cree seemed to sense there was more to the story and he settled in, leaning towards me. But he said nothing.
“Um, so you know how Rayner and I don’t have the same Dad, right?” I asked. He nodded. “Well, Rayner’s dad. His name was Ivo. When you were telling me about your dad, it reminded me of him. Cold, mean guy. A drunk always struggling to make ends meet. Once, I guess, he’d been wealthy and successful, but then something happened. I never learned what. My mom tried to make things work, but she couldn’t. Finally she realized she was miserable and needed a fresh start for her and her boys.”
Cree’s eyes went wide as he stared at me. “Boys? As in plural?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said softly. “We had an older brother. His name was Soren.”
Shaking his head, Cree sat back and closed his eyes. “I never knew,” he said.
“I’d imagine not,” I said. “Ray doesn’t talk about him. Ever. See,” I hesitated, “Soren’s mother wasn’t my mother. I know, I know. It’s crazy. Three half-siblings. But my mother had been with him since he was so small – he never knew otherwise. Not until she tried to get custody.”
“It didn’t work?” Cree asked.
“No. The state of California would not let his adoptive mother take him with her, no matter how much she tried to point out how it would be better for everyone. How emotionally abusive and incapable Ivo was. Ray must have been two, so he doesn’t really remember it, but Soren was about seven. Just old enough for his whole world to fall apart.
“My mother thought about staying, for Soren’s sake, but it was too late. Ivo kicked her out and Ray along with her. Eventually she met my dad and two years later they were married. Had me. You don’t know my mother, but she’s a people-pleaser. She was always trying to make up with Ivo, get him to see Ray and have Soren visit us. Finally, when I was maybe three, it worked.
“Ivo had sobered up; he was doing better, and Soren came to visit every other weekend. He was different. Quiet, like Rayer, but an intense kind of quiet. Sometimes he’d stare around, his fists clenching and unclenching, like he was looking for something. My mom tried, she really tried to help Soren, but he didn’t want it. He resented her.”
“Eventually Ivo was doing so well, Rayner started visiting with him. Ivo and Soren lived out by the mountains, by the Stanislaus forest.”
“Stanislaus?” Cree asked. “That’s where that bad fire was about four years ago. The Rimfire.”
I nodded. “Rayner was nine. I was seven. Once again, he was gone for the weekend and I remember being bored, wishing that Soren and Rayner could live here. Then I heard my mom running through the house on the phone, panicking and crying. I’d never heard her like that. It made my entire body go cold.
“A forest fire, a massive one, had broken out and it was tearing through the Stanislaus Forest. People were evacuating, but it was a dry summer and the forest went up like kindling.
“I remember driving out there, watching the sky turn black and then turning a corner. It was like all the mountains were burning.” I closed my eyes, remembering the crowns of flames licking the sky. “And I started to cry, asking where my brothers were.
“Rayner was okay. Soren had gotten him out and put him on a bike. He’d managed to ride his way down the mountains, escaping, and firefighters found him…” I trailed off.
“I’m so sorry, Sky,” Cree murmured.
I nodded, wiping at my face. “Yeah, me too. Soren and Ivo were gone. They found Ivo in the house, but they never found Soren. I used to dream that he escaped into the mountains with the help of elves or fairies. That he was living in another place… but he never came back.”
Pulling myself against him, I knotted my hands in Cree’s shirt and cried softly against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”
“I just don’t want anyone else to not come back,” I whispered brokenly into his shirt.
A breeze across my bare foot woke me. Tossing my head on the pillow, I glanced at my bedside clock. Five a.m. I didn’t have to be up for another three hours.
Adjusting the blankets so as to not disturb Cree, I rolled over, seeking his warmth, when I saw the bed was empty. Voices were coming from the living room and I sat up straight.
Was Rayner back?
Creeping over, I saw the door had opened a crack. Peering through it, I felt cool air brush over my face. The breeze that had woken me was pouring through the open window just beyond the kitchen. It was big one, with a wide sill, and Cree was sitting on it, letting the dawn air wash over him. Something about that struck a chill colder than the wind to my heart. He looked so unlike himself, tired and defeated.
His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back against the wall, one leg up with his hand resting on it, holding his phone.
“You’re sure there are no reports on it?” came a male voice I didn’t recognize, and I jumped. Then I realized Cree had it on speakerphone. “Cree, hello? I don’t have all day here.” He sounded brusque, but there was also a note of kindness and affection to his voice that made me wonder if this was Cree’s best friend, Wes. “Did you fall asleep on me?”
“No,” Cree said, his eyes still closed. “And yes to your question. Trust me, I think there’d be a lot more hysteria if that was the case. I told you, I have eyes in the sky on it.”
>
“I’m surprised more bodies haven’t turned up, I have to admit.” His friend sounded grim and worried. “Although I imagine anything similar to Huxley would be all over the news.”
My skin went even colder. What?
“Remind me again what a what – what is it?” a woman’s voice came over the phone, sounding sleepy, but concerned. “Ugh, don’t give me that look, Wes. You woke me up.”
“As the legends go, they’re monsters being punished for a sin of selfishness or gluttony, usually cannibalism.” My skin crawled at Cree’s grim tone. “Frozen in time. Never sated.”
“Man, I cannot keep all of these supernatural horrors straight,” the woman grumbled.
“Why would there be fire, then? A wendigo’s element is ice,” said another man, his voice sounding as though it should be jovial, but was instead subdued. I suppressed a sound of surprise. I knew that voice – that was Burr Santana, Rayner’s best friend. He’d visited us in California a few times. Burr let out a huge yawn, “Did Rayner say whether he was coming back anytime soon?”
“No,” Cree said. “I don’t think he’ll be back for another week.”
“Damn,” Burr rumbled.
“You’re like an old grandmother with that kid,” Wes said. “Rayner’ll be fine. He looks before he leaps. Unlike another fool we know.”
To my surprise, Cree laughed. “You’re both fussy old grandmothers. Wes, because he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to get it right, and Burr because he might actually be a fussy old grandmother in disguise.”
“Hey, that’s a compliment in my book,” Burr said with a laugh. “Wes looks like he swallowed a lemon though.”
“Don’t worry Wes, mi vida,” the woman teased. “That’s what we love about you.”
“We need to get training,” Wes said in a gruff voice. “Anything else?”
“Nah, that’s it for now. Enjoy that five-mile hike, Kay,” Cree opened his eyes and grinned at the phone. “Talk to y’all soon.”
“Keep us posted,” said Wes.
“Yeah, thanks coyote tonto,” the woman said and I could picture her rolling her eyes.
“Bye, Cree,” said Burr.
Cree clicked the phone off and stared at it, then out the window. The light made him look like a black and white sketch, his Native American ancestry standing out. He looked like a handsome, troubled young god, brooding over a city he wanted to protect.
I blinked at that thought, then I backed away from the door, twisting my hands. I’d eavesdropped. I’d never eavesdropped on a boyfriend before.
Boyfriend?!
Rushing back to bed, I clambered in and tried to fall back to sleep before my brain could start churning through all of this. But I couldn’t sleep. I was staring up at the ceiling, picking through that conversation and trying to figure out what the hell it could have meant.
Did Cree’s friends know what was going on with all the weird stuff happening in Seattle? Or at least know more than the general public and police? What was that creature called? A wendigo? It sounded vaguely familiar and a shiver went through me.
I had no idea how long I was lying there awake, but Cree never came back. As dawn crept over the sky, I heard the outside apartment door open and close.
I sat up, looking over at the empty side of the bed. For a guy who liked honesty, Cree kept more secrets than anyone I knew. And in that moment, I realized we’d never discussed anything beyond the present moment and the charity dinner next week.
Were we together? How would this work? Could our lives really be made into one?
Both of us had been so intensely in the now, we’d ignored all the practicalities. I knew my mother would tell me to let go and go with the flow, but my brain wouldn’t allow that.
Sighing, I played with the bedspread and tried to ignore the crushing weight filling my chest. Was this just a fling? Was I taking it too seriously? Well, that was fine then.
Yet the weight remained.
No, it wasn’t a fling. I was taking this seriously.
Then why did both the thought of Cree in my life and of him leaving me behind terrify me equally?
Chapter 17
Sweetbread, the crow I’d recruited early this morning to keep an eye out for the wendigo and his cronies, was cawing softly on a branch behind me.
Wes always made fun of me for using crows, saying it sounded like a bad nineties band, Cree and the Crows, but even he admitted they were smart and capable.
Rayner and I were the most adept at utilizing animals. While all shifters could communicate, we were the two who patiently sat through Aunt Sil’s training for using them as allies. Ben and Wes couldn’t be bothered, and the idea bothered that bear of a teddy bear, Burr.
I couldn’t blame them. For one thing, it had to be done sparingly and with the understanding that their survival and own concerns came first. And for another, it took a while to build up that trust and communication.
However, I’d had plenty of time since coming to Seattle. The first time I’d come to Discovery Park before the nirumbee attacked, I’d met the crows that hung out there.
A big glossy female crow, the aforementioned Sweetbread, was my favorite. Old and crafty, she had a sharp eye and a wide circle of relatives winging through the city.
At the moment, we were waiting for her nephew.
A smile twitched on my face. This morning I’d stood in line at hipster café for a cup of coffee, surrounded by people staring at their phones. Now I was sitting on an isolated hill, the city noise muffled by the trees, waiting for a crow.
I feel like Sky would find this pretty funny, too.
At that moment, there was a flutter of wings and a young, nervous crow landed in front of me. Sweetbread fluttered down as well. The two of them were chittering and bouncing around each other, the nephew inclining his head in respect to his aunt.
Unlike spirits, which could usually speak, the language of animals was nothing so easily translated to words. It was more impressions and images. A forgotten language that seemed to spark some deep, atavistic memory in my bones.
Aunt Sil had once said it was the purest form of communication. “No words necessary.”
Nickel, the nephew, did have information. According to him, the night of Otis Huxley’s murder, shadows had converged at Foster Point, driving out both animals and spirits alike.
Since then, they’d spread through the city, whispers of the wendigo out for blood panicking the denizens of the natural and spirit worlds. A few deer and water spirits had gone missing, but no bodies were found.
I cursed myself for not checking out that area before. I’d seen it on the map and knew it might serve as a good hiding place for anyone wanting to stay out of sight.
But there’d been nothing reported over there and with the presence of nirumbee in Discovery Park, along with Sky, I’d forgotten all about it.
According to the crows, however, there had always been nirumbee there, just never in such great numbers or so violently opposed to people trespassing. I set my jaw. A perfect distraction.
When I asked Nickel and Sweetbread about a blonde man or a Skinwalker, both of them became agitated. It took me a few minutes to calm them down, but once I did, they both assured me they hadn’t seen it; although Nickel did point out that the night it had shown up, the shadows were the darkest he’d ever seen them. No one with any sense stirred for several hours.
After thanking them both and watching them fly away, I called Rayner and left him a message, detailing everything I’d learned. Then I called Wes.
“You and the damn crows,” he said, sounding both exasperated and amused. “What are you up to now – Oy! Kalin, you’re gonna lose a hand that way.” Muffled yelling. “Don’t sass me, woman.”
“I see you guys have gotten to the adorable bickering stage,” I said as I got to my feet. At Wes’s words, I realized what I had to do, even if I didn’t want to. Nor did I think Wes would be happy. “Where are you?”
“Montana, dummy.�
�� Wes sounded distracted. I was about to hang up when he said, crisply and irritably, “Don’t even think about it, Cree. Burr! Ben!”
“What is it?” Ben sounded slightly breathless as he came running up.
Burr blew out a breath. “Is Cree about to do something stupid?”
“No,” I said, squinting across the water towards the east. Foster’s Point, which was part of Washington Park, was seven miles away. I could be there in under thirty minutes. If that. “At least, not yet,” I amended.
Groans filled my ear. “Cree, what are you thinking?” Burr asked.
Quickly I outlined my plan. “I won’t rouse good old Gashak, but I want to get a lay of the land – for me and Rayner. It’s not like we can let a wendigo run around Seattle.”
“If he doesn’t get back soon…” Wes warned, “we’re coming out there.”
“Fine by me,” I replied, strolling east. “But I have to go now.”
“Cree, you let us know the minute you are out there, you hear me?” Burr asked.
“Yeah, grannies. Talk to you later. Love you,” I said flippantly and hung up. Then sniffing the air, I leaped and landed on all fours, darting off through the woods. The ground seemed to hum as I ran over it, the miles turning to liquid under my quick feet.
Twenty-three minutes later I was at Washington Park. I probably could have gotten here faster, but it had been tricky sneaking through parts of the city and now I sniffed the ground, checking for either humans or anything demonic.
It was clean, however. I trotted through the thick woods, noting there was a golf course off in the distance, adjacent to the park. Then I passed an arboretum and plunged in deeper. It was quiet, no birds chirping, and the noise of the city seemed dampened.
Raising my head, I spotted a boardwalk in the distance. The walking and running were getting difficult due to the swampy earth, and I saw some enterprising Seattle folk had put in the boardwalk in for exactly this purpose. Ducking out, I shifted back and hopped onto the wooden planks. My sneakers were noiseless on the wood.
While today had been on the colder side and cloudy, the light seemed to leech out of the landscape as I continued on. Hairs rising on the back of my neck, I came to an inlet of water that was called Duck Bay, according to the map, but I saw no ducks. The place was deserted.
HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters Page 63
