The Coyote's Chance (Masters of Maria Book 4)

by Holley Trent

  Her eyelids raised slightly, though didn’t fully open. She appeared to be staring down at her hands. She was tapping out a sequence on her left palm with the opposite four fingers.

  “How many instruments do you play?” he asked and immediately groaned at himself.

  Here we go again. Distracted.

  He still wanted to know, though. She was a brand-new book he couldn’t wait to crack open—one he’d probably have to read twice to make any sense of.

  “I . . . I don’t know. I lost track. If there’s an instrument in existence I haven’t seen, I can probably figure out how to make a musical noise with it.” She cast him a shy, upward gaze, which she quickly pulled back. His fault for looking at her, probably. “Obviously, I’m better at teaching the more familiar ones.”

  “What was your first one?”

  “Hard to remember now which I was drawn to first. There were so many. Something with strings, for certain. I still tend to think of myself as a string player, although I’m a pretty proficient keyboard player, too. I was glad when harpsichords went out of fashion. I couldn’t stand that darned plinking.”

  Chuckling, he settled onto his rear end on the opposite wall of the hall from her. “How were you making money before you took the teaching gig?”

  “Moving from one orchestra or wind ensemble to the next. Pay isn’t great unless you’re famous, and I can’t seek fame for obvious reasons.”

  “You don’t perform at your actual level around others, do you? You never let on how long you’ve been at it.”

  She shook her head and let out a long breath. Didn’t sound wistful to him. Just tired. “No. I always got frightened whenever I’d see my name mentioned in particular in a newspaper review about a performance. The last thing I need is for people to try to track me with a trail of newspaper clippings. I haven’t changed my name in thirty years.”

  “Willa’s not your real name?”

  She blew a raspberry of amusement. “Oh, not even close. I’ve been Willa something-or-other since I landed in western Europe in the eighteenth century, though. If anyone were to call me by my birth name now, I probably wouldn’t respond. And . . . ” Her mouth hung open for a few silent beats. Her gaze sharpened on him. Then she closed her mouth and shook her head hard. “I . . . have no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

  “Because I asked isn’t a good enough reason?” he asked in a tone laced with incredulity. He could practically feel more gray hairs of Willa-induced frustration sprouting on his head.

  Her eyebrows darted up as though being asked anything about herself was such a shocking thing.

  “I like knowing,” he said. “You gonna tell me your name?”

  She snorted and gazed down the hall. “No.”

  “Come on. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

  Her head tilted toward him and eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Blue’s not actually your name?”

  He shrugged. “Well, it’s part of my government name. Is it my first name? Nope. It was my mother’s maiden name, and she wanted me to have it, too.” And it was the name she snatched back after the nasty divorce. “She came from a pack that tended to have bluer fur compared to the reds and browns you generally see.”

  “That’s interesting,” Willa mused softly, staring at the wall in front of her. “How people get their names, I mean.”

  “I happen to agree.”

  He waited. Wondered in silence.

  He still wanted to know her name—wanted to know what identities she’d shed and where she’d shed them. Wanted to know where she’d started and what made her decide to move on from all the places she’d been.

  Wanted to know what made her tick.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, letting out a breath in exasperation.

  Keep it movin’, alpha.

  “You can tell me about your siblings’ packs instead.” If he found that out, he could probably find out what he needed to know about Willa by researching the people she was related to.

  “They’ve been at it longer,” she said sourly. “Three of my half brothers have Wolf packs. They—”

  “Uh, Willa?” Diana shouted through the screen door. “You in there?”

  Blue threw up his hands. “Of course she’s back now.”

  “What’s wrong?” Willa called up as she scrambled to her feet with Blue’s help. “Did something happen with King? He didn’t get off the leash again, did he?”

  “Uh. No, I have him. Can you come out for a sec . . . and show this, uh, guy that you’re okay?”

  “What guy?” The reckless woman headed down the hall without waiting for an answer.

  All Blue could do was shake his head and follow behind her with her abandoned juice glass. He set it on the kitchen table as they passed.

  Unlatching the screen door, Willa murmured, “Oh boy,” under her breath and stepped outside onto the stoop.

  “Oh boy,” seemed too mild an exclamation to Blue. He’d encountered the wild-eyed citizen on the sidewalk a few times since arriving in Maria. He’d already been warned by the town’s resident elves to avoid him. He was a “sensitive”—he saw things he wasn’t supposed to be able to see and had a knack for being in places at the exact right time to witness paranormal activity that guys like Blue were normally pretty good at keeping secret.

  Of course, the Coyote pack in Maria had frequent slipups. There was no way of knowing how much damage they’d already done with local relations.

  Willa took a deep breath and smoothed a hand over the short bristles of her hair. “What’s wrong, Carl?”

  “He wanted to see you in the flesh,” Diana offered. She was standing on the walkway with King straining on the leash. King wasn’t threatening the guy, precisely, but still trying aggressively to get in his space. King was a powerful, active dog, but Diana had him under control. “Hi, Blue,” she said, grinning knavishly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

  “Yep.” He leaned against the doorframe and put his eyes on the wildcard. The dude needed to be handled. No one—not Blue, not Kenny, not Lance—had been able to figure out a good way to deal with Carl that wouldn’t cause them more problems.

  Carl pointed spastically at Diana and Blue and then at half the houses on the street before throwing up his hands and laughing maniacally. “You need to go,” he said to Willa.

  “Why?”

  Eyes wild, he nodded sagely. “They’re dangerous. I’d mind myself if I were you. You got all kinds of crazies around you. Everywhere you go, they just flock.” He flapped his arms like wings.

  Diana’s grin broadened, but somehow she managed not to laugh outright. Normally, she didn’t try. Blue was glad she was trying, because guys like Carl were the ones who tended to have the National Guard on speed dial. The last thing Maria needed was to be put under martial law because a mundane couldn’t get with the program and just pretend he didn’t see the supernatural shit.

  “I’m fine. See?” Willa asked calmly. She stepped onto the walkway, hands in pockets, and moved slowly toward him. “And Carl, who’s they?”

  “Those giants who disappear all the time.” Carl’s eyes were round as flying saucers. “Those women I sold my old shop to on Main Street. Something’s happening in the sheriff’s department, too. Don’t tell me it isn’t. I know at least two of the deputies are up to some funny business. Plus, I keep seeing all these wild animals in town that don’t act quite right. Saw a dog on the roof of Lamarr’s a few days ago when I was riding my bike. Was looking at me reeeeeal funny as I pedaled past.”

  “Oh, hell,” Blue murmured. He leaned against the wall beside the front door and clucked his tongue thoughtfully.

  Apparently, in addition to a certain thrill-seeking drunk Coyote, Carl had witnessed teleporting angels, elf shenanigans, and was getting a little suspicious about the Cougar-affiliated sheriff’s deputies. Blue had on good authority that the sheriff was perfectly aware that people like them existed,
and that was the reason he’d hired them in the first place—mostly to police the troublemaking Coyotes, but also to respond to “weird” calls in general. Apparently, the sheriff had been sweet on Maria’s most eccentric witch for the better part of twenty years. They’d finally gotten their acts together and were cohabiting.

  “I don’t know about that one for sure,” Carl said, pointing to Diana, and then Blue. “Something’s definitely wonky about him. He’s got stink lines coming off him.”

  “Say what?” Blue asked, indignant. He was probably the best-groomed dog in town, aside from Diana.

  Willa turned her back to Carl, pulled her lips in between her teeth as if to suppress a laugh, and after a few seconds said, “You know. Like, squiggle lines in comics that show that there’s some sort of aura radiating off a person.”

  Oh hell.

  The guy was more dangerous than Blue had thought. He’d compiled a lot of research materials about paranormal recounting while writing his thesis. Sensitives were rare, and sensitives who had awareness of as much as Carl did were like hen’s teeth.

  Blue smiled and took a deep breath, trying his hardest to rein in all the energy that belonged to him—trying to make his psychic output smaller. Normally, he didn’t bother when he was around Willa because Coyote energy didn’t seem to affect her much, and as his sister, Diana was immune to him. He was doing the magical equivalent of stuffing a bloated body into a tight pair of leather pants without the assistance of baby powder.

  “You feeling all right, Carl?” Blue said after he’d pulled in all the magical bulk that he could. He was afraid to even breathe for fear that some of the energy would leach back out.

  Carl tilted his head and scratched it. “I . . . ”

  King tugged Diana closer to Carl and put his forepaws up on the top of the fence, long tongue lolling.

  On a few seconds’ delay, Carl noticed the big dog there and took a big step back before looking back to Blue. “I . . . You were just . . . ”

  “Just what, Carl?” Blue asked soothingly.

  Carl looked around again, pointing wildly, before pivoting back to Willa. “I don’t . . . Saw something. It’s gone, but it’ll come back. I swear on my lucky rabbit’s foot it will. You should find somewhere safe to go. Get away from them. I’m looking out for you, you see. I know you don’t have anyone.”

  Willa nodded. “I appreciate you caring about me, Carl. I’ll be sure to look into what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, good.” He nodded spastically, gaze flitting from Willa to her house and back. “Got lots of lights on in your house, huh? Maybe you should prune that tree. Better for your electric bill.”

  What the hell is this guy talking about?

  Didn’t look to Blue like there were any lights on, and judging by Diana’s Huh? expression, she didn’t see them, either.

  Glancing at the house, Willa’s gentle smile fell away for a moment, but she recovered quickly, probably before anyone but Blue noticed.

  What are they seeing?

  “Um. Listen, tell Zach I’ll see him in class tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

  “And since I have you here, could you remind him to clean his horn tonight? The other trombones have been complaining about the odor.”

  “The . . . horn. Yeah. Sure.” Nodding spastically, Carl backed away, gaze shooting from one Coyote to the other.

  Diana gave him a finger wave. “Bye, hon.”

  Carl took off at a run.

  “For crying out loud.” Blue let out a ragged breath, pulled out his phone, and tapped a message to Lance:

  WE NEED TO PUT A WATCH ON A GUY. INFO COMING SOON.

  “Oh. My,” came a quiet voice, strained with barely suppressed giggles. And then Willa doubled over with riotous laughter. It was a pure, wholesome sound that washed over him like sweet absolution, and he hadn’t even known he needed it.

  The lightness in her tone made him for a moment feel like nothing else mattered but making her happy. Her other state was too worrying.

  The demigoddess was starting to ruffle his fur in ways that weren’t all bad. He didn’t know if unraveling the mystery of her was a distraction he needed, but his curiosity certainly couldn’t make things worse.

  Chapter Ten

  An hour later, Willa rooted a fried chicken sandwich out of the greasy paper bag from the diner. The conquerors of her household may have thought she was completely out of the loop of their discussion, but in truth, she was multitasking as always. She was concentrating on keeping her dinner out of King’s mouth and also trying to follow along with the rapid-fire, stream-of-consciousness conversation coming from Blue, Diana, and Lance. Apparently, Kenny was at Coyote HQ babysitting the lush in the basement, and the rest of the Sparks trio was discussing the pros and cons of throwing one more person down there with Billy.

  Carl.

  Of course, Willa wouldn’t let that happen. Carl was certainly a nuisance, but the only people he perturbed were the nonhumans he discovered. He had clueless kids at home and a mortgage to pay. The last place he needed to be was locked up with a Coyote who had a showering phobia.

  Still, she appreciated the distraction. They were so entertaining that she’d actually stopped watching the golden tracks on her belongings fade. Her heart rate had gone down, and the knot in her stomach had loosened. Knowing that her father probably wouldn’t play the peekaboo game when other people were in her house was comforting as well. He’d always preferred to terrorize her in a one-on-one capacity.

  She took a seat at the table and had King’s sad face on her lap and the sandwich halfway to her mouth when all three Coyotes turned to her in unison. Mouth hanging open, she paused the sandwich’s flight. “Huh?” Obviously, she’d missed a turn in conversation.

  “I asked if there are any more folks like him in Maria,” Blue said. “And what about his kids? Do they notice anything unusual? You said one is in your class, right?”

  “Oh.” Willa shrugged and took a bite of the sandwich. Experience had taught her that fried chicken sandwiches needed to be consumed before the buns disintegrated from contact with all that delicious grease. “I have his son, a seventh-grader. He also has a daughter in high school. I didn’t teach her. The best I can tell, neither of them is aware of anything usual about the supernatural citizens of Maria, but I probably wouldn’t be the best person to assess if they were. I don’t hit people’s radar the same way you do. Also, from what I’ve discovered, most kids with any sort of magic don’t get suspicious about the people around them until just after the first stage of puberty.” She took another bite and muttered around it, “I don’t think he’s started yet.”

  Blue fished a couple of barbecue sandwiches out of the bag and settled into the chair across the table. At some point while waiting for Lance to show up with food and intel, Blue had rolled his shirt sleeves up his forearms and had freed the top button of his shirt.

  There’d always been something peculiarly distracting for Willa about a man in a clean white shirt. She’d even liked the linen ones with blousy sleeves and lacy ruffles at the necks. Watching men fidget their collars and cuffs had been her most diverting amusement in eighteenth-century England.

  Crisp white anything was wholly impractical for most of the rough-and-tumble citizenry of Maria, but Willa couldn’t imagine Blue in anything else. The image of him in a button-down had imprinted in her brain, and it wasn’t a bad one.

  Just the opposite, actually.

  Mouth suddenly dry, she looked away, turned the nearby bag over, and nabbed a napkin from the pile. He wasn’t her Coyote to be admiring, and she shouldn’t have been admiring him anyway. They weren’t even friends, and that was how she needed things to stay. “Um. So, what do you do for a living, anyway? Noelle never told me the specifics.”

  Blue arched a brow and quirked his lips into a semismirk.

  Willa wasn’t sure if that boded well, but she still wanted to know the answer.

  “Did you
ask her before or after she lost her voice?”

  Willa cringed. The elf hadn’t lost her voice so much as relinquished it. She’d given it up to pay her lover back for the curse she’d inflicted on him. Her lover, Tamatsu, wasn’t thrilled with the turn of events, but she still had ways of communicating, even if other people couldn’t easily make sense of her.

  “Maybe I didn’t ask in such clear terms, so much as dance around the subject,” Willa said.

  “What do you think I do for a living?”

  Taking another bite of sandwich, Willa shrugged one shoulder. “No clue. The best I can tell, the pack is your business. All I know for certain is that you’re not skimming dues.” That he hadn’t been surprised her. Dues collection was a common practice in shifter groups. The money was supposed to go into a pool that’d be meted out to pay for things the community at large could use, such as gathering spaces, or . . . bail. Usually, though, it went straight into the alpha’s pockets never to be seen again.

  “Those folks need the money more than I do,” Blue said quietly.

  “That’s decent of you.”

  “Why do you assume I’m not?” he asked without humor.

  Willa kept her mouth shut and her eyes on her sandwich. Accusations were stressful, and she was tired of arguing with him. Kinder conversation was calmer.

  “I won’t tell OG you said that, Blue,” Diana said, rescuing the conversational direction.

  Willa looked up to see her perched on the corner of the counter with a dripping barbecue sandwich in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other.

  “At the rate you’re going with all the stuff you’re not doing, why are you even here?” Lance asked. He took a big bite of his sandwich.

  Willa shuddered. Barbecue sauce splotched into his full, blond beard, and she wondered if hair stained the same way clothes did.

  Diana crossed her long legs in the other direction and gave the pack lieutenant a provocative blink. “Probably for the same reason you are.”

  Lance made a moue at that and pinned a questioning gaze on Blue, but Blue was looking at Willa.