Then Pea had brought out a sketchbook, the cover smudged with colorful fingerprints, and flipped open to a page. Holding it up, she had asked, her voice quiet, “Have you ever seen this before, Benny?”
Swallowing, I stared at the charcoal sketch and looked into the face of the creature that had appeared in the woods only six months before. I couldn’t respond, as my mind filled with the horror of that night, and I clenched my sweaty fists hard.
“What is it?” I had finally whispered.
“We call them Ash Walkers.” Auntie Sil spoke up after a long moment, her face grave.
Quiet fell, with even the evening breeze dying out, and no one spoke for a long time. All I could hear was the roar of blood in my ears and feel my pulse down into my fingertips. Suddenly, I wondered if I had run because I’d known there’d be no turning back after I learned the truth.
“You think there are no consequences for greed?” Crowfoot growled, breaking the silence.
Fern had explained further and my skin crawled more with each word. “They are manifestations of the pollution and corruption against the Earth, empty spirits who desire to consume, burn, and destroy.” His eyes never left mine. “You’ve looked into one’s face and survived, Ben. Be aware that is not a fate shared by many.”
I watched as Pea flipped the sketchbook closed. Now I had a chill that wouldn’t leave me.
Crowfoot sighed. “Do you think your gifts are a fluke?” Blowing a smoke ring up into the sky, he watched the deepening twilight, and I suddenly had the sense of stepping out of time. As though I’d stumbled into a forgotten place of old stories and heroes. My heart swelled with longing and awe, even as my pragmatic mind rejected it. “You five were saved for a reason and gifted with the ability to drive them back as other shifters never could.”
“But how?” Rayner had asked, with a note of frustration in his voice.
“Hopefully that we can show you,” Big Bear had grunted, before standing up and shaking back his hair. Then in the blink of an eye, he had shifted into a black bear, and back again.
After that, they told us old stories about the Coyote, most of which I had already learned at my mother’s knee. Coyote was at once benevolent and a trickster, a great spirit, yet never far removed from humanity. However, there were some I had never heard, and this amused Sil.
“Some of the greatest stories are never told,” she’d said loftily.
According to the Elders, which is what we’d come to call Silver Tail and her friends, the Ash Walkers were an ancient entity. While they’d appeared throughout history, it was always infrequently, and never in great numbers. But in the last fifty years, they had appeared more and more. They seemed to be taking advantage of environmental catastrophes and blight in order to whet their ravenous appetites.
In shifted form, since we entered the spirit plane, the Ash Walkers were vulnerable, and we were stronger. It was hard for them to hurt us, although Burr had a nasty scar across one shoulder where one had pinned him down, and the other sliced the arm with fire. His howls still reverberated through my nightmares sometimes.
And so the intervening years had separated us from the “real” world in a lot of ways, as we learned to wield our gifts. But we still worked on hotshot crews, fighting wildfires wherever we could, since they seemed to attract, or perhaps breed, Ash Walkers. Plus, we needed money.
However, sometimes we worked security or did land surveying if those jobs provided convenient cover for going into remote places.
More often than not, there was no rhyme or reason to the Ash Walkers’ appearances, nor could we figure out how exactly as Coyote shifters we could stop them. No matter how strong or fast we became, it never seemed like enough.
In fact, within in the last six months, our encounters with the Ash Walkers had been few and far in between. It seemed they were now avoiding us as best they could.
But they also had human pets – at least we thought they were humans – who tried to follow us around, hinder us, and when all else failed, attack. We called them “Pale Eyes,” since their irises were drained of color, leaving them a pale, sickly yellow.
Those creatures and confrontations troubled the Elders more than the Ash Walkers sometimes. It seemed to suggest there was a cunning intelligence at work – one they had not faced before. They referred to this foe as the “Nameless One.”
“Well yes, as of right now, all is quiet,” Sil said, and I jerked my head up, back in the present. She was sitting next to Rayner and stroking the owl’s head.
“Too quiet?” Burr teased, sitting backward on an old wooden chair and grinning.
“I’m surprised you didn’t see an Ashy walking around during your last time on a crew, yes.” Aunt Sil retorted. “I can’t say I like it. But it has given us more time to investigate…”
My mind wandered again as Aunt Sil continued speaking, thinking hard about the answers we were so desperately seeking. I knew the Elders believed the Coyote had saved us and granted us gifts because the tide of the Ash Walkers was growing too strong, too lethal.
Why, though? Why, if the Ash Walkers had been present throughout history, were they so potent now? The Industrial Revolution had given way to widespread pollution, but at least nowadays most people were aware of the damage being wrought on the environment by humans and there were some halfway-decent laws in place to protect it.
But when I brought this up, it would only bring us back to the cunning, nameless foe.
One of the stories she’d told us popped into my head. It was about how Coyote had once stumbled into the Deadlands and found the gash in the earth where the Ash Walkers had crawled from the abyss. In theory, if one could find it and close it, they would trouble the world no more. Or at least, far less. So one of our ideas was that perhaps we were meant to seal the gateway within the Deadlands.
But even that was not a satisfactory solution for me or my brothers. First, we didn’t know whether that story was pure myth. Second, our encounters with the Ash Walkers were trying and each time we’d barely been able to fight them off. And as far as “sealing” went, we had no idea how.
As always, there were too many questions and not enough answers. I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair, and wondering whether I should run up north again to see if I could try to find the Deadlands again. That was another reason why I went running so much – I was secretly determined to see if I could find that place. The stories weren’t specific, but it seemed to refer to somewhere in the Northwest Rockies, or perhaps within the Flathead Mountains.
“Benny.” Aunt Sil cut through my thoughts, and I blinked, looking up at her. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, then met the amused glances of my brothers and Sil. “Wait, what?”
“Everyone here has a task for the next few weeks until you lot get sent off to fight fires again. Since you were on the moon, I chose for you.” Her eyes twinkled. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Depends on what I’m doing,” I growled, annoyed at myself.
“You’ll just be guiding some old friends to a few places around the mountains.” Aunt Sil responded, placing the owl back on her shoulder, and standing.
“What? Why?” I asked. Our contact with non-shifters was limited, usually to the guys we worked with and the few other people we occasionally encountered on our jobs.
“Because even an Elder like me needs help sometimes. There was a rockslide a few months ago that opened the passage to an old cave. It has interesting glyphs on the walls, but I can’t make heads or tails of them. So I invited some professors, archeologists, and the like to come out and have a look. You’ll be keeping them safe and helping them out.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re joking,” I said flatly.
“Said the pup to the old wolf,” Aunt Sil clucked at me, shaking her braids. “Maybe if you listened for once instead of running in circles in your mind, you’d learn a thing or two.” And with that, she swept from the barn while my brothers choked back laughter, a
nd I scrambled to my feet.
An idea was forming in the back of my head, but I was shaking it off as too improbable, too much of a coincidence… But my heart was pounding. Hadn’t I learned nothing was impossible?
“Sil!” I called out, racing out after her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Hurrying around the barn, I rushed through the gardens towards the house. Then I stopped so quickly, I almost fell over, and my heart was now a drumroll in my chest.
Hazel.
She was here.
Sitting on a bench underneath an old tree barely a few feet away, feet tucked up under her and staring at the sky. Adrift in dreams, just as she had been the first time I saw her.
Without meaning to, I stepped closer, eyes riveted on her. My heart was exploding now, mouth dry, and electric shocks were dancing up my spine. Just as the first time I’d seen her, I felt a powerful, inexplicable connection, a sense of completeness mingled with blazing desire.
She must have sensed my gaze, because she looked down, and straight at me.
Her big eyes widened in shock and her lips parted. For a long moment, we stared at each other. Then Hazel smiled, face lighting up, as she got to her feet, and came towards me.
That smile threatened to undo me.
“It’s you.” She sounded breathless. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Chapter 5
“Hello?” I asked, as Ben just stared at me, breathing slightly uneven. “Ben?”
Suddenly he blinked, and asked in a cool voice, “Have we met?” Now his face was careful, full of polite puzzlement, and his eyes were blank.
My breath caught sharply and I took a step back. A moment ago, his gaze had been full of recognition, flickering with other emotions I couldn’t name, but now that was all gone. Gone so quickly, I wondered if I was imagining things. Perhaps I’d heard the name “Ben” and jumped to conclusions.
But as I looked at him, I knew his face. He was unforgettable, in spite of the fact that he’d filled out, becoming sturdier and stronger in the years that had passed. Even though his hair was shorter, it was still full of unruly spikes and fell into his eyes. And he still smelled like wild pines. “You’re Benjamin Ofreo.” I said, almost sounding accusatory. “We met – once.”
“Yes, that is me.” He said, still looking nonplussed, and closed off. His voice was deeper, but there was a note that seemed to be missing, and something painful snarled in my chest. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t recall that. You are…?”
“Hazel,” I said flatly. “Hazel Pemberton. We, well you…” I choked on those words and tried to smile. “Never mind.” An ache tightened my throat and I didn’t trust myself to finish speaking.
Whereas only moments ago excitement and happiness had exploded in the pit of my gut, now I was feeling humiliated. I just wanted to get away from his dark gaze.
“Doc?” Rayner appeared suddenly behind us. “Did you – oh, you’ve met Hazel?”
Doc?! I thought in panic, as I looked from Rayner to Ben. Was he going to be my guide?
“Is she one of the people I’ll be guiding to the Rockfall Cave?” Ben asked, almost sounding indifferent, and the ache grew sharper. He offered me a bland smile. “I imagine that’s a yes as there are not many others around.”
I nodded as my thoughts bent and churned.
Rayner was giving Ben a strange look as he stopped in front of us. “Yes, so I hope you were nice, Ben.” His gaze fell on me, and I dropped my eyes, hoping I wasn’t tearing up.
“Of course.” Ben’s tone was empty of emotion. “I always am.”
He was nothing like the boy who had stood in Whitsy’s office. The boy whose voice had conveyed a thousand different things with just one word, and whose gaze had seared me. The boy of whom a thousand questions sprang into being. A boy I’d know barely fifteen minutes and had spent almost five years wondering about.
“Excuse me, I just realized I have to go do something. Sorry,” I said as I turned and fled.
“Hazel, wait.” Rayner began to say, but I was already hurrying up to the house. For a moment, I almost paused, wondering if Ben would say something.
But there was nothing except the rustle of leaves.
Old words rose up and my heart twisted in my chest.
I’ll never forget you.
Later that night, I sat in the window seat in my room, wearing a thin tank top and sweatpants. I’d skipped dinner, saying I was tired and wanted to rest up before the big day tomorrow, but in reality, I couldn’t face Ben again.
Part of me couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t even a friend. In fact, Ben was barely an acquaintance. Why should I be so hurt that he didn’t remember me? So what, right?
But another part was writhing in agony. I’d spent years dreaming of meeting him again and finding out the answers to his questions. Getting answers to my questions about him. He’d haunted me, that dark-eyed boy who was now an indifferent, aloof man, and apparently had no recollection of our meeting.
I supposed I was hurt because I’d thought maybe I’d meant something to him. I’d believed him when he said he’d never forget me. And I’d thought maybe we’d have been friends.
Ben clearly hadn’t given me a second thought, however.
He must be what my American girlfriends called a “player.” A man who moved fast and didn’t look back. With his good looks, I guess he didn’t have to. Why would he remember some museum assistant who’d gawked at his tattoo and been unable to understand his questions?
Resting my forehead on my knees, a few tears slipped free, and I raged at myself. I had no logical reason to be upset. I was far too old to be acting like this.
Raising my head defiantly, I leaned against the window and stared out into the cloudy night. The stars and sky were obscured. Everything was dark.
Glancing down, I saw movement and froze. A man was standing down there, gazing up at the house, and I realized it was Ben. I could tell by the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. Part of me wanted to dive off the seat into my bed, but I couldn’'t move.
Then he turned and walked off around the house. My muscles unknit, then I scowled as I stood up. I had to stop looking back. It didn’t matter whether or not Ben Ofreo remembered me. All that mattered was doing good work on this survey and that was it.
I’d put him firmly from my mind from here on out.
Early the next morning I was sitting alone at the dining room table, sipping a hot cup of coffee and observing the foggy landscape. Everything was colored in dark, dreary green and gray. With the clouds drifting low over the mountaintops, I could already feel my hair beginning to frizz up into a curly halo.
I had no idea where anyone else was. Sil had come and gone ten minutes ago, grabbing only a muffin and a mug of coffee. Nonetheless, she’d patiently stayed to listen to my proposition about staying in a cabin closer to the Rockfall Cave. I’d heard Cree mention it yesterday afternoon and I’d immediately latched onto the idea. Anything to get away from Ben.
At first, Sil had been doubtful. “It’s no trouble to have you here, Hazel. And that cabin is quite secluded. It does have a generator, but it’s a tricky, unreliable beast. Are you sure?”
When I’d adamantly insisted, saying the quiet would be good for my work, and how I hated to trouble her about it, I’d won her over. Sil had nodded and told me Cree and Wes would bring along supplies to the cabin: food, blankets, and anything else I might need. I’d scribbled down a list, overflowing with gratitude, and she’d just laughed.
“It will be quiet; I’ll give you that.” And then Sil had vanished.
Getting up from the table, I wandered into the hall and encountered Whitsy limping down the hall, aided by Wes.
“Ah, there you are Hazel.” Whitsy grunted, hobbling up to me. “Dear girl, I’m afraid my gout is acting up. Damn fog getting into my bones. So I’ll have to take the long way ’round later today. Do you mind going alone? Or you could wait, I suppose?” His eyes twinkled as he
knew the latter question was a lost cause.
Smiling, I shook my head. “I’m used to getting places on my own. I’ll be fine. You take care and I’ll see you at the cave whenever you can get there.”
“Should be about one or two o’clock,” said Wes. “We’ve got to take the long way around with the ATVs. Unfortunately we’ve got a lot of equipment; otherwise I’d offer you a ride, too.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him. “I know it’s only an hour walk from here.”
Hurrying upstairs, I grabbed my bag, cast a regretful eye around the lovely room Sil had given me, and then left. Walking downstairs, I heard a buzz of conversation coming from the dining room but decided to quietly slip out the back. Yesterday Sil had marked out where the cave was on a map and I was confident I could find my way there.
The fog wrapped around me as I stepped outside, instantly adding height to my hair, and I sighed. Walking through the gardens, past a big barn, and down a small hill, I found a trail entrance that would take me north and plunged into the quiet woods.
Trees loomed up in fits and starts out of the dense vapor, while the endless drip, drip of condensation plinked from the leaves overhead. No birds were singing, the wind was quiet, and a prickle raced along my spine. Checking my watch, I saw it was just past eight a.m. and I picked up my pace. I’d wanted to be there by now.
I only had a day or so before the rest of the team arrived and I was eager to get the first look. Not only that, but I wanted to study the old artwork in peace while I could. Whitsy wouldn’t have bothered me, but I couldn’t deny being the first to see it was a thrilling thought.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked a voice from behind me and I jumped.
Spinning back, my hand pressed to my chest, I stared around for the source of the disembodied voice. A shadow of a tall man moved through the fog, and a moment later Ben appeared, arms folded, and face thunderous.
“What do you mean?” I half-panted, trying to get my breathing into a normal pattern again. “I’m going to the cave. Aren’t you taking Whitsy in a little while?”
HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters Page 4