by Holley Trent
“If that’s what she wanted—” Ma winced. “I mean, if that’s what she wants, then maybe it’s best to pretend you don’t know where she’s from, then.”
Lily performed a slow nod like she was only half listening but felt the need to respond anyway.
French Fry curled at her feet and watched cars pass by. In his estimation, probably, all was well with the world. He’d done the job he was ordered to do. The ramifications weren’t going to hit him the same way.
“Where are you going to keep her?” Ma asked.
“At the ranch,” Lily said at the same time Lance said, “At my place, I guess.”
For a few seconds, they stared at each other. Her stare was hostile, but he would have been surprised if it wasn’t.
“I’ve got the space,” he reasoned.
Plus, Lily would have the place nearly to herself to raise the kid. He traveled so much that he wouldn’t be much of a disturbance.
If Lily had any opinion of the suggestion whatsoever, she didn’t show it.
She bent and scratched French Fry between the ears, and she watched the cars go by, too.
Diana stepped outside the diner and looked both ways. “Where’d that baby come from?”
“That’s Martha,” Lance told her.
“Martha?” Diana’s energy flared hot as she took purposeful strides toward the curb. “The Jaguars—”
“They’re not here,” he interrupted. “Just Martha, for now.”
“How?”
“Some of that magic of theirs that we haven’t figured out,” Lily said. “Back at Elephant Butte it’d seemed like they had just vanished, so maybe they do at times. And maybe sometimes…they just don’t come back.”
“You mean, like, they’re teleporting?”
“I don’t think it’s quite like that. Lola does teleport in a way, though. She can go from one place to another in a snap. She can also vacate herself from her corporeal form altogether if she needs to, but I think it’s different with the Jaguars. I may be wrong, but my gut says what the Jaguars are doing is more like…moving through spaces we can’t see.” Suddenly, Lily’s forehead creased and she stood up rod-straight. “Wait.”
“Oh, hell,” Diana said with dread. “What now?”
“We know other people who can do that. Or rather, not-people. Beings, anyway.”
“We do?” Lance asked. He didn’t know the difference between a teleport and a not-teleport. He only knew that there were some creatures who moved around the planet in ways that defied physics, and as an Earth-based creature, Lance tried to mind his own business about their methodologies.
“Yep.” Lily’s fingers drummed rapidly against her thighs. “At least three.”
“Who?” Ma asked.
“Shit.” Lance suddenly remembered. The “three” was a rarified group.
“You may not have had the opportunity to meet them yet. They can not only move through spaces we can’t see, but they can do what you think of as teleporting, too.” She counted off on her fingers. “Gulielmus. Tamatsu. Tarik.”
A startled gasp fell from Diana’s open mouth. “Tarik.”
“Yeah,” Lily said sourly.
A beat later, Lance got what they were getting at.
Tarik—the other member of the “sus” Estela had mentioned in her story. The fallen angel made sense. Him being tangled up in the scheme was almost too perfect. He and Lola had a very long, complicated history that neither of them ever discussed, and the fallen angel spent the bulk of his free time courting her. Lance had always thought Tarik’s obsession was unrequited, but perhaps there was something else going on.
“He makes sense,” he murmured, rubbing his beard. “And Tarik’s not nearly as hung up on non-interference with humans as Lola is.”
Most higher supernatural beings had to concern themselves with upsetting the order of things or insulting other members of their ilk. As far as Lance knew, Tarik had never given a shit, and on the rare occasion anyone had confronted him about his actions, he’d made them disappear.
“Well, if he’s had a hand in the mess,” Diana said, “let him come clean it up. Call him.”
“No.” Lance couldn’t believe the word had even come out of his mouth. Wasn’t his style to do things the hard way when there was a simple solution. They could call Tarik and let him handle the Jaguars, but Lance couldn’t even begin to guess what would happen if the angel showed up. Those Jaguars hated men. Perhaps Tarik was one of many reasons why.
And perhaps Tarik wouldn’t have the same patience for their rude arrival as Lola. Tarik was intolerant of annoyances. Maybe he wouldn’t be so gentle with handling them. He could eliminate all of them, Martha included.
He looked down at Martha who’d nodded off with her fingers in her mouth.
That little girl deserved whatever shot she had to live, and he wasn’t going to do the reckless Coyote thing and needlessly escalate the confrontation.
“Some things, you’ve just got to use a little finesse with. Is it harder that way? Yeah. But I’ve got to assume there’s a good reason Lola did things the way she did.”
“I think you’re right.” Diana sighed. “We’ll take a measured approach, as planned. Keep Tarik out of it for the time being.”
“Wouldn’t he know, anyway, if a race he’s had a hand in making was present in his stomping grounds?” Ma asked. “The measured approach might end up being moot.”
Lily shrugged. “It’s hard to guess what creatures like him know and don’t know. He’s certainly not omniscient, and we can’t even assume that he would have cared for longer than the day of the Jaguars’ origins. Angels’ interests tend to be fleeting at times. You kinda just have to roll with them. I lived with an angel for a few months. She didn’t have anywhere near Tarik’s level of abilities, but the experience was an educational one all the same.”
“When’d you live with an angel?” Lance asked her.
She raised an eyebrow of warning.
“Just asking. Seems like there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“Does it matter?”
It absolutely mattered. He was married to the woman. He wanted to know everything about her, and he’d obviously been woefully remiss with Q&A.
But maybe it was too late. Maybe she didn’t care anymore.
He couldn’t accept the possibility of that—didn’t like the way the thought seemed to solidify and settle into his belly like a lead weight.
If he let her go, the coyote part of him wouldn’t accept a substitute. He wouldn’t be able to make himself care for anyone else. And truth be told, she’d always preoccupied him. All she had to do was enter the same sphere and he became something akin to star struck. Obsessed.
Maybe as obsessed as a certain angel was with Lola.
Lance forced a swallow down his throat and licked his dry lips, uncomfortable and unsettled. He needed to be doing something. Moving, searching, running—anything.
“Listen.” He slung the carrier handle over the crook of his elbow. “We need to rustle up some supplies for her, so—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “I’ll call my aunt. She’s probably got some gear on hand for the kids she fosters.”
“Diapers and milk, too?”
At that, Lily shrugged.
“So, I’ll go. I’ll start with the grocery store and see what they have.”
No one stopped him from leaving.
In fact, he got all the way down the block and was about to turn the corner when the unmistakable sensation of walking toward someone set him back a step.
But there was no one there.
“Nayeli?” He put out his hand, slowly, to feel the air, but it was just air, and there was no response. He felt like he’d stepped into a warm current all of a sudden, though. The energy in that little pocket of Maria was charged with the will of a living thing.
By the time he thought to take a step back and retreat to the diner, the invisible obstacle had moved to behind him.
The hair on his arms and neck stood on end and fangs descended. His body went stiff and tense, on alert for him to shift forms—for him to do what was necessary. He had a mission. Although it had technically been given to his wife, he wasn’t going to exclude himself from the endeavor. He wasn’t so cold that he could ignore a child who needed so much. And he was going to do everything in his power to grant Nayeli’s wishes.
“Give her to me,” came a low, pointed whisper from behind him.
Estela.
Of course, it’d be her—the one who wouldn’t hesitate to tie him up and kick him when he was down if she had to.
He didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Couldn’t draw attention to himself on a public street.
Play it cool, Aitkenson.
“No,” he said under his breath and scanned the street ahead. “I won’t.”
There was a Coyote a couple of blocks down. He recognized the reflective tape on the neon yellow windbreaker. Connie was a crossing guard on school days. He hoped she was on alert. She hadn’t looked his way yet.
“She’s not yours,” Estela said.
“She’s not yours, either.”
“We have our ways. She goes with us.”
“Well, her mother wanted her to go with us.” With Lily, technically, but Lance didn’t see the need for complete honesty on the subject. After all, he’d been there in that alley. Nayeli hadn’t specifically told him to fuck off, and nothing had been stopping her from doing so.
“She was out of her mind. She was not thinking clearly. We keep our own. Always.”
“Yeah, Coyotes know a little something about that. We keep our own even when we know damn well we shouldn’t.”
“You colonizers are nothing like us.”
“Whoa. Okay. That’s fair, I guess. I can admit my privilege, but what I’m not going to let you do is conflate this situation with a personal grudge match. I’m not giving you this baby. Nayeli wanted stability for her, and say what you will about my wife, she always does what makes sense.”
“I have no issue with your wife. Yet.”
Shit. Connie had disappeared from sight. Lance needed someone to have eyes on him. He wasn’t going to be able to fight, and he damn sure couldn’t keep talking to himself on the sidewalk. Someone would probably call the cops.
The baby carrier was bulky. If Lance took Martha out of it he could probably move with more nimbleness if he needed to make an unexpected sprint. Could possibly swing it as a weapon if he had to.
He ignored the buzz of his phone in his back pocket and turned slowly to face the road, pushing his senses out as far as he could to better read the scene. Didn’t matter. He still didn’t understand Jaguar energy and Estela was standing too near. For all he knew, there could have been a dozen of those women around him or just one. He had no key to understanding them.
“I tell you what.” He started walking casually in the direction Connie had disappeared toward as though he had things to do and the invisible specter behind him was no more inconveniencing than an untied shoelace. “We can set something up the next time you’re in town. I’ll see if I can tiptoe out for a spell for you to visit her. Would that satisfy you?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Shit.
That wasn’t Estela’s voice. It took a moment for Lance to attach a name to the owner because he’d only heard it once, but he doubted he’d ever be forgetting it now.
Lance cleared his throat and turned slowly toward his father-in-law. His office was right fucking there. Glass door. He’d seen Lance walk by.
His gaze fell to the carrier.
Estela, still invisible, somehow threw her weight against Lance’s back and made him stagger forward. Trying to make him set down the baby, probably.
Just start holding your breath, lady.
“I was talking to the baby,” Lance told Mr. Baxter.
The corner of the other man’s mouth twitched. Based on what Lily had said about him, Lance had a hunch that he was the kind of guy who could see lies in auras, or else just assumed that everything was a lie.
Estela pushed him again, but Lance was ready that time. He had his feet braced and both hands on the carrier handle.
“She comes with us,” Estela said.
“Listen. Nice talking to you,” Lance said.
Mr. Baxter’s eyes narrowed to slits.
Estela darted around Lance and grabbed his chin hard. “I told you she was not in her right mind, did I not? Silly girl, sending the dog ahead to find a new madrina for her baby, and led us right here, huh?” She stepped closer, body to body, and shouted in his face, “She was here! Huh? This place is heavy with magic you cannot possibly understand. Where is she?”
Lance closed his eyes and wondered what the scene must have looked like to Mr. Baxter. He must have thought he was a menace—the guy his daughter had married was planted on the sidewalk, talking nonsense, and carting around a baby that wasn’t even his.
“What is wrong with you?” Mr. Baxter asked.
Lance swallowed. “Who are you looking for? As you can see, whoever you’re looking for isn’t here right now.”
“I go ask your wife. She got her mark. She know, huh?”
“No.” Lance’s eyelids snapped open as Estela’s energy began to retreat, but then his focus was divided by Mr. Baxter’s concerned fondling of his cell phone, the approaching heat of another Jaguar—or two—and his phone buzzing in his pocket.
Connie finally noticed him and started to come his way and Lance needed to figure out how to re-stage the situation immediately.
Fuck it.
He spun on his heels and shouted in the direction he thought Estela had gone in, “You ever tell them that they don’t have to fade away like you do, Estela? You ever tell them that, or do you conveniently omit that from the narrative?”
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Mr. Baxter asked.
Connie caught up to him and, after recoiling with a startled yelp away from the Jaguar energy at Lance’s right, found her courage and whispered, “They’re here?”
Lance grunted, and then shouted after Estela again, “Did you hear me?”
“¿De qué estás hablando?” came the query from his right.
Connie’s head turned toward the sound, but Mr. Baxter didn’t seem to hear. He had his body pressed against the office door and his phone to his ear. He was staring at Lance like he’d just grown a second head.
Lance dragged his tongue across his lips and said, “Hey, Blanca.”
“What you say?” she queried.
“Is Estela looking this way?”
“No. Tell me.” She gave Lance’s sleeve an entreating tug. “What you say?”
“Estela!” he shouted as he turned to Connie. “Don’t let her get to Lily.”
“Lance, I can’t even see her.”
“But you’ll be able to feel her. Trust me on that. And call Diana, will you?”
“Will do.” Connie nodded and took off at a power walk, phone to ear.
Blanca yanked his sleeve as Mr. Baxter asked, “What is this about Lily? Are you putting my daughter in some kind of danger?”
“What you say?” That time when Blanca pulled Lance’s sleeve, she did it while making herself visible. He had to give her props. It was a hell of a way to throw a tantrum, and shifters were a dramatic lot to start with.
“Oh my God.” Mr. Baxter ducked into his office and locked the door.
Lance sighed as Blanca stalked around him, black-eyed, sallow-skinned, breathing hard.
“Chiiiiiica, what you do?” came a chiding voice from somewhere behind him, but Lance didn’t bother turning to look at Guadalupe. He suspected he wouldn’t see her.
“He know something,” Blanca said to her friend. “What he know?”
“Maybe you should ask Estela,” he said.
“No. I ask you.” Blanca was still breathing laboriously in a way that made Lance worry about her time left on the mortal plane. Nayeli had looked jus
t as bad off back at the park. She grabbed his lapels. “What you say?”
Guadalupe appeared beside her. Slower than her friend, though. She had less of the sheen of labor on her skin, but her eyes had the same all-black coloring.
Lance glanced around, wondering what kind of cleanup they were going to have to do after this mess was over. There were ways of making humans forget things, but people with the right kind of magic would have to get to them quickly enough.
Shit.
“Why would you believe me?” he asked them. His mother darted across the street at a diagonal. “I’m a Coyote. You’re not gonna believe shit I say.”
“You got Martha,” Blanca said.
“Lily got Martha,” Lance admitted. “She’s the decent one of the two of us. I’m just faking it until I make it.”
He noticed that neither of the women seemed intent on taking the baby away like Estela had been.
Huh.
His mother shimmied between them and took the carrier. “Baby can’t even take a nap around here without some commotion, huh? When’d she last eat, anyway? I bet she’s hungry, too.”
It was like she wasn’t even there, as far as Blanca and Guadalupe were concerned. Their attention was laser-focused on Lance. They didn’t even notice the two other Coyote women coming up the block from opposite directions.
“I would have thought you’d be more concerned about the whereabouts of your goddess than with me,” he told the Jaguars.
Blanca poked her chest right over her heart a few times and said, “I concern with me. My friend go. Am next, sí?”
Guadalupe squeezed her shoulder and made some encouraging sounds. Even with his limited Spanish, Lance could tell that she didn’t actually refute what Blanca had said.
“I live.” This time she pounded her chest. “Things to do. Why me? Why us?”
“I don’t know,” Lance said. “And maybe it’s not my place to tell you.”
“But Estela know?”
Lance gritted his teeth and felt the weight of shame on his shoulders. In his line of work, he’d had to seed discord and mistrust in enemy packs countless times before, but this was different. For the Jaguars, his words meant life or death. Perhaps Lola wouldn’t interfere, but he’d already disrupted the game and the rules didn’t apply to him anymore.