HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  Anger tore through me and I retorted, “Like your sorry grub is worth stealing.”

  The man went pale and his eyes glittered. “What the hell did you just say?”

  “I said,” through gritted teeth, “my wallet is in the car. Please let me go get it and pay you what’s due. I’ll even still tip your waitress, even though you clearly have no concept of customer service.” Oh, I was off and running now. Slitting my eyes, I dared the man to go ahead. I’d always had a short fuse and too much to say. 100 percent my mother’s daughter.

  “Girl, I’m about to call the police on your sorry ass–”

  A deep, delicious voice cut in, smooth as gold and strong as a mountain, but with a note of fury coiling through it like a flame. “Is there a problem here?”

  The man from the booth with the sexy voice, hazel eyes, and dark skin had appeared next to me. Standing up ramrod straight, he was scowling at the owner with his arms crossed. Catching a whiff of something spicy, masculine, and earthy, my knees trembled. Then I got a hold of myself.

  “I got this,” I hissed in a whisper, annoyed that I was getting so fluttery over a man, and even more annoyed he was butting in.

  His eyes met mine and a jolt of excitement went through me. “Do you?” he asked dryly.

  “She’s tryin’ to skip her bill and I’m about to call law enforcement. Unless you want to be locked up too, I suggest you move along,” the man uttered with contempt, his hand drifting towards the phone. “Buncha rotten kids tryin’ to steal from decent, hard-workin’ folks…”

  Panic seized me. I can’t get arrested! I have to find my sister.

  Suddenly, the receipt was plucked from my hand clenched on the counter, and Mr. Self-Appointed Hero was pulling out his wallet. Sliding a twenty across, he shot the owner a glare, and said in a hard voice, “Make sure you give the change to the waitress.”

  Stunned, the owner glanced at me, then back at the man. But Mr. Hero seemed to swell, looming over both of us, and the man blinked, clearly coming to his senses.

  “That’s alright then,” he muttered, opening the cash drawer and then slamming it shut.

  Utterly humiliated, I muttered, “Wow,” and then flew out the front door of the diner. My cheeks were burning as I marched across the dirt parking lot towards my rental, a sad gray sedan, and the cold wind tore tears from my eyes.

  “A thank you would have been nice,” someone said and I jumped a mile.

  Spinning around, fists up, I was shocked to see Hero-guy standing right behind me. How the hell did he sneak up on me? That’s a first. I have ears like a damn cat!

  An eyebrow cocked up at my stance and I thought I saw his lips twitch.

  “What? You want me to pay you back?” I snapped. “Just give me a second.”

  “Not why I came out here.” He slid hands into his pockets and gave me an odd look.

  “What the hell do you want then?” I demanded, getting angry all over again.

  His eyes slit. “Damn, you’ve got a hell of a temper, huh?” His deep voice was almost a growl and again I felt that tug deep in my belly. “I came out here to tell you to watch yourself. That guy wasn’t kidding about having you arrested. This whole town is under a shadow and people are on edge. You should think about moving along. And soon.”

  Listening to him speak, I thought I detected almost a southern note in his drawling voice, and I wondered for a moment where he grew up.

  Then his words hit me and I scowled back. “No one tells me what to do.”

  He clenched his jaw, then shrugged and headed back to the diner. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he called back. “Don’t forget your wallet again, though. Can’t say I’ll be there to rescue you.”

  Biting back a retort, I snapped out, “Yeah, thanks.” Then I muttered under my breath, “Not like I needed your damn help in the first place, you macho jackass, but whatever.”

  Suddenly a loud laugh boomed across the lot. Looking up, I saw the man grinning at me from the front steps, and shaking his head. “I heard that,” he called out.

  Flushing, stunned, I stared at him, watching him go in. Then I saw his companions had been watching us from the window. One of them was rolling in his seat with laughter.

  I held my head high and spun around. Yanking open the car door, I hopped in and sped out of there. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t keep his smile, the smell of him, or his words from spiraling through my brain.

  Chapter 2

  “What the hell was that about?” asked Burr Santana blankly as I sat back down at our table in the diner. There sat my four brothers, three of whom looked nonplussed, one of whom laughing so hard he was crying, and my brother Ben’s girl, Hazel, who was fighting a smile.

  Cree Campbell was, of course, the one howling with laughter, to the point where his real laugh almost had a note of the Coyote in it. Benjamin Ofreo leaned across Hazel Pemberton to push the side of his head. But Cree kept laughing.

  “Seriously Quickfoot, you’re makin’ a scene,” Ben hissed.

  “Too late for that,” Rayner said, eyeing me and then looking around the half-empty diner. “This is a small town and there’s no way we’re not turning heads.”

  “As we do!” Burr grinned.

  “But have they told anyone is the question,” I pointed out.

  Cree took a deep breath and looked at me. “C’mon Stealth, answer Wildman.”

  “What y’all havin’?” asked a female voice at that moment and I looked up to see the waitress beaming at us. That was Cree’s cue.

  “Well, hello there,” he drawled, leaning across me, and she giggled. “Think I just about figured it out.” And then he winked.

  Resisting the urge to put him in a headlock, I pushed him off me, and said, “Water, please. And two bacon omelets.”

  As he’d proclaimed earlier, Cree ordered a double stack of pancakes and bacon. Hazel ordered French toast, Ben ordered egg whites and spinach, Burr ordered a burger, and Ray a steak.

  Before the waitress could leave, I smiled at her and said in a clear, loud voice. “Just know that we’ll know if y’all do somethin’ to the food. Okay?”

  She blinked and flushed, then hastened away. I shook my head. Damn diner owner.

  “You’re so paranoid. Chill,” Cree said. “I saw you give him double what that bill was.”

  Hazel leaned in, her blue eyes sparkling, and said, “Oh, I do think you should have asked for her number, Wes.” Her British-accented voice was light as a spring breeze and full of laughter. “You were a real hero back there.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Trust me, she didn’t want to. Didn’t even like me buttin’ in.”

  The rest of my brothers laughed. “Oh, we heard,” said Burr.

  To my relief, from there, the conversation slid away from me and that girl. However, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Even though I didn’t know her name, I had to say somethin’ when that diner owner started jawing at her. She forgot her wallet in the car, for Pete’s sake. However, that’s not usually my style, and I know I’ll be hearing one too many jokes about it from Cree, that doofus.

  But with her warm skin, bright brown eyes, and dark twist of fluffy curls to her shoulders, she’d caught my eye the second we walked in. All I could think was, a woman like that has no business looking so sad.

  Damn that noble streak of the Young’s. I’d thought I’d all but tamped it down.

  But after we’d locked eyes, how could I resist? I wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh, and maybe help her out.

  Man, she was a feisty one, too. Didn’t even want my help and said that straight to my face. Well, I was no fool. I could appreciate that and enjoy it – I mean, she’d made me laugh.

  I was also no fool to know she was in some kinda trouble. She’d had hollows in her round face, smudges under eyes and a faint scent of saltiness about her, as though she’d been crying. Idly, I wondered if some punk-ass was giving her a hard time and squeezed my fists tight.
/>   “Stealth,” Cree hissed next to me.

  Looking up, I saw the waitress had come back and I was sitting there, absentmindedly bending a heavy butter knife in half like it was Play-doh. Smiling at her, I snapped it back and accepted my plate, trying to act casual.

  “Worried about your girl?” whispered Cree as the waitress walked away, shooting a funny look at us over her shoulder.

  Sniffing the air, I was pleased to note my comment had worked. Nothing about our food smelled off. Then I glared at Cree. “Drop it. I was just cooped up in the car too long.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Burr said through a mouthful of burger. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

  Rayner interrupted at that moment to say that we needed a game plan. I shot him a look that was half-grateful, half-annoyed and he shook his head at me, smiling slightly. I had to give it to him – he knew how to keep the peace.

  After some discussion, we all agreed that we needed to do recon first. Burr, Ben, Rayner and I were going to head for the woods. Cree and Hazel were going to interview people around town as discreetly as possible. I gave Hazel a sympathetic look as Rayner emphasized the word “discreet” to Cree. She rolled her eyes and smiled.

  Once done with our early lunch, we headed back out into the blustery cold and clambered into the giant SUV we’d rented for the trip. I still thought it would have made more sense to get two, but our last hotshot crew job hadn’t paid so well. The Wildland Firefighters Union was having a field day with that, but I knew even if they settled, it would be months before a payout.

  Rayner was driving and I was next to him, examining a map for the best place for us to be dropped off. We needed a point where we could fan out for optimal surveillance while remaining unseen by others. Finally we pulled off onto an old service road that bordered the woods.

  Everyone hopped out and I stretched my back, eager to get running.

  “Be safe,” I heard Ben whisper. Glancing over, I saw him give Hazel a swift kiss.

  While I was happy for Ben and glad to have Hazel around, I had to admit, I couldn’t ever see myself bringing a woman into this kind of life.

  Cree sighed, his eyes mournful and envious. “Have fun.”

  As Hazel and Cree drove off, the four of us walked into the woods, lifting our heads to listen.

  Rayner said in a low voice, “Remember, watch out for hunters. Especially you two.” He gave me and Ben a dubious look. “These woods are thin right here, between the town and the river. Worst case, head northwest, it’s all National Forest.”

  We nodded and stepped forward, each of us shifting. And then, four coyotes stood where four men had. Each of us took off sprinting in different directions.

  No matter how many times I shifted, it never got old. Ancient power flowed through my veins, the earth hummed below my paws and strength crackled within me.

  Five years ago, my brothers and I had stumbled across the path of an ancient evil while fighting fires up in the wildlands of Montana. One minute we’re walking in the normal world, no monsters, nothin’ scarier than the Wildman’s bare feet after a long day of workin’, and the next thing we know, there’s a creature staring down at us, made of ash and flame, long limbs burning up the trees, and spewing toxic fumes.

  We’d almost died.

  Except for some strange reason, Old Man Coyote, a Great Spirit of the Native Americans, had saved us. Gifted us. And we became what are known as shifters, with a greater purpose and a heavy burden. We were now responsible for protecting others from that threat which had almost destroyed us.

  It was incredible. Of all of us besides Wildman, I’d taken to shifting the fastest. I was enthralled that we’d been brought into a fold of the universe tucked away from most eyes. I loved being one of the five Hotshot Brothers, a Coyote Shifter, and guardian of the wilderness.

  Some part of me had always believed in a world of magic and myth. Growing up in Louisiana, my grandparents had filled my head with both fairy tales and ghost stories. And more than anything, I wished I could tell them what had happened. Or at least visit more. Us brothers had each planned a break during this fall, but three months ago, unexpected events had changed all of that.

  We’d been staying with our Aunt Sil, an Elder who’d aided us over the past five years as we learned to hone our skills. Up in the wildlands of Montana, we had been granted our gifts and learned to wield them. Plus, we were on call for a firefighting gig.

  But what had started out as a peaceful summer rapidly degenerated into a new kind of battle for me and my brothers. Usually our enemies were the Ash Walkers, a corruption of greed in the form of ash and fire, intent on consuming and destroying the natural world.

  However, we also had another subset of enemies we called the Pale Eyes. They were humans who had been corrupted – the color drained from their eyes, leaving them a sickly yellowish color. Servants of evil, they were strong, fast, and cunning.

  Yet, as we’d learned this summer, not of their own free will.

  The Pale Eyes had concerned the Elders for years. Never before had humans been a part of the ancient struggle. Someone had changed the rules.

  The Crooked Man. A Skinwalker.

  Which is what brought us here. A lead on the Crooked Man, that snake, had come to Hazel in a dream. She’d seen a map of Arizona spread below her and then a spot began to burn away. It was this town – River Hills – a small, forgotten place in northwestern Arizona.

  It turned out that Hazel was a kind of shaman, one who could tap into her past lives and now the future it seemed. And she was right. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right or smell right in these parts. I wasn’t lying when I told that girl there was a shadow lying over this town. We all sensed it the moment we crossed the line separating it from the next.

  Although we couldn’t be certain, we all had a hunch it meant the Skinwalker was close. His foul presence wasn’t on the wind, but there was something about the way the back of my neck crawled with nerves and my hackles raised that said an enemy was close by.

  Or enemies.

  I’d run for several miles and now a came to a series of steep hills. Beyond the furthest one, a smudge of a shadow loomed, and I cocked my head, trying to make it out. Then, low to the ground, I slipped across them before crawling up the ridge closest to it.

  Suddenly the breeze shifted. A hint of ash was in the air.

  Below me stretched a sluggish brown river and beyond that was a crumbling concrete wall. The shadow I’d seen earlier. Sneaking closer, I eyed it. It was old, but it was solid and at least fifteen feet tall. I wondered what lay beyond it.

  Then there was movement and I flattened myself to the ground. Two people in black came around the corner. Each of them was swinging their arms loosely, but their brows were furrowed above the bandanas covering the lower half of their faces. I caught a glimpse of their eyes and my own slit. A yellowish gleam.

  Pale Eyes.

  Patrolling some kind of compound, no less. I waited till they walked by and scanned the wall again, looking for security cameras. When I didn’t spot any, I shifted back into a man and ran full tilt at the wall. About a foot away, I leaped and easily grabbed the top, swinging myself up into a crouch.

  My eyes widened. Within the concrete walls was a series of muddy paths, now dried, crisscrossing between buildings. It looked as if dozens of people had been through there. As for the buildings, some were newer, looking hastily constructed, while others were older.

  The whole place sent a cold chill down my spine.

  Was this an army barracks for the Skinwalker? Was he amassing troops of Pale Eyes to do his bidding? But why here? And why now?

  Then in the distance, I saw a door swing open, and a man came down the steps. He was tall, walking with a slight limp, and a cane flashed in his hands. I saw him raise his head and look towards me. But I was already gone, back on the ground, shifting into a coyote and pounding through the forest.

  Looks like we were right about the Crooked Man. He was here.


  Now we had a chance to take him out.

  Heavy clouds were rolling in, the wind picking up, and the temperature dropping. The five of us were crouched on a hill not far from the compound, surveying it through binoculars and not talking much. After reconvening in the afternoon and taking a brief rest, we’d decided to act fast.

  Even though we had no idea whether the Crooked Man knew we were here, we had to do something before he slipped through our fingers again. And wherever he was, there was a good chance the object we were seeking – the Moonstone – was as well.

  If he hadn’t destroyed it yet.

  The Moonstone was an ancient treasure we’d found in our past lives. (Yeah, I’m still trying to wrap my head around that one.) Hazel and Ben discovered it at the end of the summer, only to walk straight into battle with the Skinwalker, where he distracted us and snatched it right from under our noses.

  It was the key to stopping the Ash Walkers from entering this world, and we suspected, to ending the Skinwalker’s power. There was some sort of symbiotic relationship happening between those monsters and that creature, one I didn’t like to think about too much. It made me sick.

  If we could, we would end it here tonight with the Skinwalker. Ben had managed to drive him into a corner once before. Together we could probably do it in half the time. Only trouble was he wasn’t fighting alone either. So the more important prerogative was to get the Moonstone.

  Each of us knew what we had to do, but that didn’t make the prospect ahead any more inviting. We’d never done anything quite like this before. Not with so much at risk, anyways.

  Next to me, Ben let out a soft sigh and I briefly gripped his arm. I knew with his new abilities, he wanted to see if he could heal another one of the Pale Eyes. He had once before, but we couldn’t take that chance tonight. If he couldn’t, it left us vulnerable.

  If he could…

  Well, first, we didn’t know if there were too many for just one man. And we weren’t sure how much a toll it would take on Ben. Last time he’d been laid up for almost two weeks. Granted, he was also battered from his battle with the Crooked Man, but still. Too much of a what if.