HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  The name had a hissing whisper of something old and dark about it. Something that moved and breathed beyond the realm of human consciousness. All the horror and loneliness and pain in the world, crushing you like a flailing insect in the merciless white heat of a burning star.

  Rayner rubbed his face, continuing. “According to legend, Old Man Coyote tricked Kivulk and locked him away in the Deadlands. Only manifestations of him can appear in this world, only in the wild where there is pollution and corruption already. The Ash Walkers.”

  My brain was spinning. “What are you saying?”

  “Huxley realized what Soren was planning – to an extent. He found a plan by one Hugo Kren to raze the mountains of Montana, from the Canadian border down. And it won’t stop there; it will spread east and west, an inferno consuming the mountains and the wild. If this happens, if there is enough destruction, Kivulk can be freed. And we five will fall.”

  “No,” I said, gripping his arm. “You’ll stop it! You will, Rayner! I believe in you.”

  “We have to,” Rayner said. “But I also have realized something else. From what I found out from Professor Huxley and from what I already knew, the line between Kivulk and Soren is blurring more with each day. That’s how it can be both our brother and that demon, how it can remember our shared childhood and our past lives.” His chin fell to his chest. “In a way, this feels like my fault. My destiny led Soren straight into the arms of a monster.”

  “Rayner,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You know that isn’t true. I was young, but I still remember that Soren would lash out. How we would pretend not to notice his cruelty. Mom tried to heal his wounds. But Ivo was lost and his real mother was dead. He gave into that heartbreak and let it eat him alive.”

  “He was a kid! He didn’t know any better!” Rayner’s voice broke.

  “He made a choice, Rayner. The demon may have whispered him promises, but Soren lit that match. He gave into the darkness, into his jealousy, his hatred, and his anger. You can’t control other people, Ray.” I paused. “Remember what mom always used to say? You have to be your own light in order to set another aflame. And you are everything that is good and filled with light in this world.” I turned and hugged him. “I know because I am too.”

  Rayner hugged me back and we were quiet for a long time. When I drew back, his eyes were bright and he gave me an affectionate smile. “I missed you, Asteria.”

  I ignored that. “One last thing. I don’t understand how it knew so much,” I rubbed my arms. “Is it able to spy on us? Could it be here, invisible?”

  Shaking his head, Rayner looked faintly amused. “No, it has a network of informants via its Pale Eyes. They can be fairly stealthy and as long as they wear sunglasses, they go unnoticed. It uses the Pale Eyes to manipulate the people it needs to talk to. People at Viper and so forth.

  “As for other spying methods, for better or worse, the Skinwalker is tied to the natural world. Akba Atatdia apparently chained Kivulk with a bracelet of vines and thorns. For now, if the Skinwalker tries to spy on us, we have to be outside. There was a necklace Willow got from the Spider Demon that Sorvang and the Crooked Man could use to spy, listen in on conversations – but only if it was outside. Indoors, those tools lose their power.”

  “Akba Atatdia,” I said, the name hearkening the cool, fresh air of a forest and a full moon overhead. A flash of gold eyes appeared and vanished in my brain before I could catch it.

  It was bright and sunny when Rayner and I went back inside. He gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me to get some shut-eye. When I went back into the apartment, everything looked different. The light coming in the windows was more golden and the appliances looked almost foreign. Dizzy, I went to my room and then stopped short.

  Cree was awake, giving me an unsure smile that tugged at my heart sharply, and he rose to his feet from where he was sitting on the bed. He was freshly showered, wearing faded blue pajamas and no shirt. “Sky,” he said, the joy in his voice palpable. “I hope–oof!”

  I’d thrown myself at him, all of my exhaustion vanishing as I knocked him over onto the bed and pressed my cheek to his. He smelled clean, of soap and shampoo, and like Cree. My Cree.

  “Cree,” I said, my heart singing as I looked down at him. “You’re awake! You’re okay!”

  “I’m going to have to get shot more often,” he said, and I slapped his face gently. “Kidding. It sucks. And the guys give me so much shit about it.”

  “What are you doing? Why aren’t you sleeping? How is your shoulder?” I cast an eye over my own. “Where are Ben and Wes?”

  “I kicked them out,” he said. “Woke up feeling good enough to shower, so I knew I was all set. It was the blood loss that did me in.” He gave me a sheepish, endearing smile. “Usually I’m not so caught up in things as to not notice losing a gallon or two.”

  “You scared me,” I murmured, letting my eyes trace across his face.

  “I’m sorry,” Cree said, his eyes filling with sadness.

  “Come here,” I said, rolling off of him and onto my side, then patting the bed next to me. Cree shifted over so that his face was inches from mine. I ran my fingers through his wet hair. “Are you sure you should be in here?”

  “I have to be in here,” Cree said. “That’s where you are.”

  Happiness was rapidly chasing away the shadows of yesterday, filling my entire body like the sun was filling the city. “How long were you waiting?”

  “Not long,” Cree said. “It felt like forever, but it was like half an hour, maybe. I was sitting in here, trying to come up with what to say to you. I think it was pretty good. But now I can’t remember one damn word of it.”

  I laughed. “Cree, I talked to Rayner.” He nodded. “I get it. And I’m sorry if in the last few weeks I was unreasonable. Things look a lot different from this side of it.”

  “‘Well, that’s a horse of a different color,’” Cree quoted dreamily. “I’m sorry, too.”

  My heart was beating hard in my chest. I wanted to get this out there – he had to know – had to know I didn’t care or maybe I did, but only insomuch as that I loved it about him in the same way I loved everything about Cree. His dancing, his jokes, his laugh, his face, and the way he kissed.

  “About what Soren said. The Skinwalker, I mean.” The name was bitter in my mouth. “About being a monster…”

  “I was afraid,” Cree said, looking up. “It wasn’t wrong, Sky. For a long time, I was afraid of what happened and what I became. It’s gone now. But I do remain in awe of it. I’m humbled to have been entrusted with this kind of power, these abilities, and this responsibility. One can stray so easily into the darkness and be consumed by using them for their own ends.”

  “But you’re not like that!” I rushed to say. “You’re the opposite of that.”

  “I know,” Cree said. “It just took me a long time to realize it. And then I thought because I wasn’t afraid or dealing with Aunt Sil’s vision, it meant I was giving into some dark ego.” He paused. “Thank you for saying that again, Sky. It means more than you know.”

  We fell silent together and I brushed my fingers along his jaw.

  “Later I’m reading your book, by the way,” he said. “I can’t wait. Then we get it published.”

  I waited for the familiar panic or stress to rise up, but it didn’t. Instead I laughed. “Okay. I actually can’t wait for you to read it. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Is it about me?” Cree asked.

  “Yes, Cree,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s about you. Jeez, so much for being humble.”

  Cree’s eyes were closed but he grinned at me. “Mm… I do have another part-ego, part-humble-pie thing I can’t quite deal with and I probably should.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You, Sky.” His eyes opened and the blue was unwavering. “How did I get so lucky?”

  My heart was glowing and tingles ran down to my fingertips. “I couldn’t say,” I teased, even a
s my voice caught in my throat. “But I can say I feel the same way.”

  Leaning in, Cree kissed me, a slow, tender kiss that seemed to envelop me from head to toe in a familiar, heady heat. When he broke away, he murmured, “I love you.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “I love you.” Nipping at my lip, he teased his lips across my cheek. “I love you.”

  The words sang through me like a song. “I know,” I murmured as I caught his face and our eyes met. I wanted to hold onto this moment forever. “I love you, too.”

  “Did you just quote Star Wars?” Cree laughed.

  “I know things,” I said, laughing as well. “I listen to you.”

  Cree laid on his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Sky, I know you’ve just been thrown into this crazy world and this thing with us is new, but–”

  “You don’t have to say it,” I said, propping myself up and looking at him. I traced my finger across his coyote paw print tattoo. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m not scared.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, believe me, I didn’t think you were. Fearless as a honey badger and a jaguar combined. I was going to say if you needed time and space, I’d understand. You can ask me to leave.”

  “Could there be a more thoughtful man in the entire world?” I asked. “Although you don’t look like you’re going anywhere. Lookin’ pretty comfortable to me.”

  A lazy smirk spread across Cree’s face. “I said you can ask me.”

  “’Cause you knew I wouldn’t? Or that if I did, you wouldn’t move?” I laid my head down on his chest, listening to his heartbeat under my ear. A steady rhythm that kept time with my own. “Well, you’re right. What I want and need is right here.”

  “Me?” Cree said, lifting a hand and tangling his fingers in my hair.

  “You and me,” I said, closing my eyes. “This is all I want. This, forever and ever.”

  Laying in a pool of sunshine, with Cree’s arms holding wrapped around me, I held onto him as though I could hold onto him forever. And as I drifted off to sleep, for a brief, wondrous moment, I may have.

  The adventure concludes in Book Five!

  The Hotshot Brothers:

  Coyote Inferno

  Book Five

  “And the mountains will burn…”

  A brotherhood forged in the wild. In the fire and the dark. In the light of the moon.

  In the six years since five friends were thrust into a world of spirits, shadows and monsters, the Hotshot Brothers have honed their skills, protected their own, and beat back the darkness.

  Now they race against time to stem the tide of corruption threatening to end their world and their lives. They are so close. So close to ending it, to turning the key and locking away those demons of fire and ash and pollution forever.

  Rayner Hess, de facto leader, strong, silent, and smothering the ghosts of his past, feels the hot breath of those flames against his neck. He only wants it to be over with, so he can breathe again, and then possibly vanish into the mountains forever. To him, it seems a fitting penance for concealing the Skinwalker’s secret.

  As spring wanes into summer, the Hotshots only need a bit more time. The summer solstice approaches with a full moon – and their time will come. Victory is in hand.

  Until one morning, one by one, Rayner’s four friends fall ill and death lurks.

  The Skinwalker sends a message. Give him the Moonstone or the four will die.

  Faced with an impossible choice, Rayner is forced to set out to try and find the one person who might have the answers he needs.

  If he can find her and persuade her, that is.

  One way or another, an inferno is kindling and sparks will fly.

  Book Five: Coyote Inferno

  Chapter 1

  I woke up remembering something that didn’t happen.

  At least, not in this lifetime.

  It was a beautiful day, some time ago, when the world was young and there were no divisions between any creatures. Man and beast were not enemies. Land was sacred, not owned.

  My best friends and I run and play in untamed forests, the sleepy mountains, and the clean rivers. No shadow or worry troubles us. No weight rests on our shoulders.

  I see us as we are in this lifetime, but as children. Ben is small and thin, his dark hair flopping into his thoughtful eyes. Cree is all legs, lanky, his blue eyes bright with mischief, and missing a front tooth. Wes is a young, upright prince, already older than his years. And Burr is no bigger than the rest of us, but his hair is still a riot of curls and he laughs far easier than I’ve ever heard him.

  Always running alongside us, happy and free, is a white coyote.

  We are bound together by an unending cycle, as old as the moon and as precious as the stars. Ours is a responsibility to the earth, to protect the clean water, the fresh air and the wild places in the mountains. In that way, we form a brotherhood, though we share no blood.

  Though I prefer this dream vastly to the nightmares – of flame, broken ties, and a face once familiar, now corrupted, but all the more unrecognizable for its familiarity – it leaves a weight on my chest. Something about this turn of the wheel is different.

  The cycle breaks after this. I can feel it.

  For good or for ill, this is our last time together.

  Chewing on the end of my pencil, I stared out into a foggy dawn. It was mid-May and the forests of northern Montana should have been gemmed with dew-like, precious, uncut jewels.

  Instead, I could barely make out the gardens below. It seemed to token the looming deadline hemming us in on all sides.

  Abruptly I bit into the wood too hard and spat splinters out onto the desk. Tossing the pencil aside, I let my head fall into my hands and tried to slow my breathing. I tried to find that deep sense of inner peace I could once call upon in the blink of an eye, but it wouldn’t come.

  Instead, a new and unsettling anxiety knotted in my chest even tighter. In my mind, I pictured a wooded peninsula, dark water all around, and words being thrown in my face like blades. And though I had no visible scars from that fight two weeks ago, unlike the rest of my brothers, mine were far deeper and refused to heal.

  If you peeled back the flesh and muscle to the deeper parts of me – the memories, the pulse and the scaffolding of my life – would all be torn to shreds.

  Usually I was not prone to brooding like this. Though incidents early in my life – losing my dad and older brother at the age of nine – had irrevocably changed me, they hadn’t ruined me. I’d dealt with my grief in a healthy way. I’d survived and grown.

  Now I struggled to keep the darkness at bay. Guilt and fury were fused together like a brand new pair of nerves winding through my body, both threatening to tear that shaky scaffolding apart.

  Now I knew the truth behind my father’s death. Knew my brother had been alive all these years. Looked into his twisted face like a grim funhouse mirror.

  It was not something I’d ever imagined, not even in the deepest, darkest fathoms of the night. My older half-brother – lonely, filled with anger and wanting to lash out at our father for his failures – had struck a match eighteen years ago, setting off a course of events that led to this moment here. Me, sitting at my desk, trying to find a way to claw out of this hell.

  Somewhere around ten a.m., my stomach rumbled painfully and I unwound myself from sitting at my desk. I’d already heard the noises of the house coming to life: Cree banging down the hall as he ran, his feet slapping in a happy, noisy way; Burr trying to be quiet and dropping something in the kitchen; Wes and Kalin bickering affectionately as they went downstairs; Ben coming back from his morning run, running to Hazel and swinging her around; Willow and Hazel coming back from morning training with Aunt Sil. Everyone talking at once.

  Everyone, including the other Elders besides Aunt Sil – Big Bear, Crowfoot, Fern, and Pea – would gather for breakfast and it would be a noisy, comforting circle of the faces I loved best in the world. Cree would be dancing and humming to
himself without realizing it, thrilled that his girlfriend, my younger half-sister Sky, was arriving later tonight. He’d be the butt of many a joke.

  The kitchen would ring with laughter, Burr’s boom, Wes’s rich chuckle, Willow’s silvery mirth, Hazel’s sweet laugh, and Kalin’s golden joy.

  More and more, though, I’d been obstinate about joining them. Even though they’d forgiven me for keeping the secret about my older brother – “the last secret,” Ben had joked – it seemed too easy. My penance should have been endless white-hot agony, all begging and pleading.

  Yet instead of being angry, my Brothers – the wildland firefighting hotshot crew and pack of coyote shifters I'd run with for the past six years – seemed worried. In fact, everyone was being scrupulously considerate and kind to me. And it made me feel worse.

  It also made me feel like I needed to do something in return, I just wasn’t sure what or even how. So I avoided them and denied myself their company.

  Now that the house was quiet, though, I felt I could go downstairs and eat breakfast. With the air of a thief, I slipped from my room and ran noiselessly down the stairs. Peeking into Aunt Sil’s pristine kitchen, I saw it was empty and walked in, sighing in relief.

  “Oh, he is among the living,” came Cree Campbell’s wry tones, lit through with his boundless joy, but with a current of concern underneath them. “’Lo, Thor. Been a minute.”

  Turning, I saw they’d arranged themselves along the back wall. For a moment, almost on reflex, I wanted to laugh. How long had they been waiting here?

  Cree was sitting on the counter, swinging his legs and grinning. He had dark brown hair waving around his head, badly in need of a cut, and brilliant blue eyes. We liked to give Cree crap about missing his calling as a movie star, but his talents lay in music and running. He was the fastest of all of us, earning him the nickname Quickfoot.