Half-woman, half-spider.
A small spider appeared, crawled up to her shoulder, black against her dead-white skin.
Gasping, I tore myself from the dream and swiped at my own shoulder. My hands shook. I hated spiders. I always had. There was something about the way they moved, their eight limbs and insectile intelligence that made me sick to my stomach.
Even though I’d gotten next to no sleep, I threw back the bedcovers and padded into the kitchen. I was wearing ridiculous flowery pink flannel pajamas, the warmest I owned, but I still shivered. The house was freezing. Frowning, I looked around. It almost seemed like there was a window open or something. Looking out the window, I saw that the wind was still blowing fiercely across the water, throwing it into a frenzy of waves, but the snow had stopped for now.
It looked as though maybe four or five feet of snow had fallen. Glancing up at the sky, I shivered again. It was heavy, letting no sunlight through.
Something banged and I whirled. Then I hurried to the patio, before stopping short. Another bang came – from the open back door, which was slapping against the house.
The coyote was gone.
“No!” I said, staring outside. More snow was coming; was he crazy? Running to the window, I could just make out a dark shadow across the yard, limping towards the woods.
Towards the place in my dream where the spider woman had stood.
My insides clenched. A warning?
Without time to think, I grabbed the first jacket I found and shoved my bare feet into my boots. Then I grabbed the gun I’d propped up against the wall a few days ago. It was one of my father’s old rifles, filled with special bullets. Slinging it around myself, I charged outside, and almost fell into a snowbank along the stairs.
Wind whipped me every which way and my pajama pants were soaked through in seconds as I galloped through the yard. I tried to call for the coyote, but my words were snatched away. Then he vanished into the woods.
“Damn,” I snapped, trying to move faster. But the snow was hampering me, the cold making me shake and my jaw chatter. The gun bumped painfully along my spine. Maybe this was pointless – I mean, I didn’t think the coyote would stay forever…
Yet I kept moving and in another second I reached the woods. It was a little quieter here, though the wind thrashed the tops of the trees. The snow was bright against the gloom and the green-gray shadows of the trunks.
Moving forward, I followed the coyote’s trail, praying it wouldn’t get blown away. He was heading straight for the ridge from my dream and a strange foreboding hit me.
You have to stop him, came an urgent voice, before it’s too late.
I began running, able to move faster here in the woods where the snow wasn’t in heaps, but the ground was sloping upwards, stealing my breath. My lungs and legs burned, while my eyes stung. Then I stumbled into a narrow clearing, almost like a corridor in the woods, lined with pines.
Rising above me was the ridge from my dream, but it was bare. No figure loomed against the sky. And directly in front of me was the coyote, its nose lifted to the wind and its body crackling with tension. Alarm ran along my skin and I gasped loudly.
He whirled at that, snarling as I approached. Eyes slit, it was a look that said, in no uncertain terms, get the hell out of here.
Walking forward, I could practically see the line where the wards began. Aunt Sil and I had set them up seven years ago when we’d moved here. The coyote was just on the other side.
Go back. The words hit me like a sudden rush of wind and I stopped dead.
It was the coyote. His words were deep and biting, tinged with anger.
Oh, so he could talk now? And the first thing it says is that? No gratitude? Wrath filled me, slow and bitter. After everything I’d done for this stupid beast, not to mention chasing after it, it was yelling at me?
“Go to hell,” I snapped. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. You’ll die out here, idiot.”
Sitting in the snow, he tilted his head, looking both amused and abashed. But still irritated. Thank you for your help, but I have to go. There was something achingly familiar about his voice, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. There are those who need me and I’ve been away too long.
“Who are you?” I asked, my heart beating hard in my chest.
I’m no one, he snapped, with a strange venom that made me flinch.
My mind was grasping after it, almost there, when the wind suddenly died. Both of us immediately tensed, glancing around. On instinct, I looked up at the ridge and sucked in a sharp, painful breath.
A woman had appeared on the ridge.
Fear rose in my throat, hot and coppery. The coyote had spun and also spotted her, snarling in earnest now. Red eyes lit up the trees at the far end of the clearing.
“No, no. That’s impossible.” Realization hit me. I’d buried so much from the past, I’d almost forgotten this creature. “My father sent you away, long ago. I remember – he told me so.” The coyote heard me and turned. Our eyes met. His glance was one of surprise and softness.
Suddenly there was a guttural growl. An emaciated creature had appeared, like a twisted dog, bare of fur except for its feet, with black skin stretched over its bones. Then another appeared by its shoulder.
“Keelut,” I breathed. Ghost dogs, pets of demons, tracking down unwary travelers at night. They could appear and vanish at will. I’d only seen them once, though I’d since seen their vanishing tracks more than once.
But never in the daytime. My head and heart were pounding now.
“The wards,” I whispered. “Coyote, please come back in here, they can’t get you, listen–”
“There you are, little shifter,” a smooth, melodious voice interrupted me. But it was only pleasant on the surface – something seemed to suggest grim horror, sharp teeth, and slime hiding just underneath the veil. “I’ve been looking for you. Not very nice to run away from your hostess.”
At first the voice seemed bodiless, but then I looked up to the ridge. The woman was gone. When I looked back down, she had appeared behind the keelut.
Stomach churning, I stared at her. Her clothes were odd and heavy, thick furs that caught the light the wrong way. But she was elegant, taller than me, with wide-set eyes, full lips, and round cheekbones. Black eyes flashed, while the white hair that whipped around her seemed to tangle and move on its own. I squinted at it. From this close I could see that her hair was not hair at all, but cobwebs. Silver spiders darted through them, weaving and spinning. My hand found my heart.
Aasrivak. Spider Demon.
But my father had driven back the last of them – I’d been there when he returned with the Inuit warriors and told the village so. It had been so long ago, over thirteen years. The tribe had been distantly related to my mother and one of their Elders knew Aunt Sil, so my father had gone to help them, taking me. We’d lived in Alaska for a year while they’d hunted it.
“Even the White-Eagle people cannot help you,” the woman wheedled. “Come back to Sorvang, shifter, or you’ll be trapped as a coyote forever.”
I knew the creature couldn’t see me through the wards, but still, I was frozen, breath loud in my ears. I’d overheard my father explaining to my uncle what the creature had looked like in its true form – the body of a spider and the head of a woman, eyes dead black and fanged teeth.
The image had haunted me for weeks. Served me right for eavesdropping.
Something flashed in her hands then. It was a necklace, a long silver chain she twirled around her finger. I watched as the coyote went very still.
“Oh yes, you don’t know what this is. But it was foolish of you to lose it, Hotshot Brother. Lucky for me, though.” Her voice cracked with laughter.
Narrowing my eyes, I focused on the spinning necklace. Something about it tickled a memory in the back of my mind – about talismans and traps. Maybe that was what held the coyote.
The thought woke me up and as quietly as I could, I lifted t
he gun off and around my head. Then I leveled it at the demon. I knew even these bullets, special as they were, rolled in blessed ashes of warriors, couldn’t destroy her – only stop her temporarily.
Sorvang froze, her eyes darting and nostrils going wide. “What was that?”
Squinting down the sight, I aimed it at her heart and pulled the trigger. The creature sensed it coming, but didn’t move fast enough – it hit her shoulder and knocked her back. I saw the necklace spin through the air and fall in the snow. Black, clumpy blood oozed from her wound and she screamed in a language I didn’t know. It was harsh and dark, making me think of lost things, creatures scuttling under the earth, and rotted fruit.
The keelut sprang into action at her words, attacking the coyote, while more of its brethren streaked across the snow. I’d seen the coyote start for the necklace, but now it was distracted. Gripping my father’s gun in sweaty hands, I darted through the barrier, running towards where I’d seen it fall.
Sorvang was still distracted by the wound and her eyes were focused on the coyote. She hadn’t seen me yet, but a keelut had. It darted for me and I shot it without thinking. It fell to the ground, becoming a heap of bones and ash, which melted in the snow.
“You!” screeched Sorvang, and I felt the cold weight of the demon’s gaze on me. “You half-Inuit brat, where did you get a gun like that?”
Ignoring her, I kept my face averted, knowing that identity was a big part of this demon’s power. Behind me, the coyote suddenly let out a snarling, angry series of noises as though it had just realized what I was doing. It almost sounded like it was swearing at me.
“What do you think– No!” Sorvang’s words hit me and I stumbled just as I grabbed up the necklace. I could hear the creature dragging itself towards me, the snick-click of clawed legs across the snow. Breathless with horror and fear, I gave into the mindless instinct to run.
At that moment, something lashed around my ankle and slammed me into the ground. I kept my grip on the necklace and gun and twisting around, I tried to aim it.
Sorvang’s threads batted it away, spinning it back to the wards. Her face was contorted in feral rage as she came towards me. But then she stopped a foot or so away, staring at me.
Suddenly, she began to laugh, a horrifying, cold sound that sent chills up my spine.
“Willow White-Eagle!” she croaked out. “Not just any half-Inuit, but one of Silver Tail’s relations! Helaku’s daughter! Oh, this is too rich.” Her eyes gleamed with a fanatic delight as she beheld me. “What a stroke of good luck.” She stepped forward.
Then suddenly she was knocked away, the knot of cobwebs around my legs gone. The coyote was between us, his body trembling with rage and pain, gashes across his sides. Blood soaked his fur, matting it, and I gasped as I sat up.
Run! he barked in his head at me, but suddenly his legs gave out and he was panting on the ground. Pain lanced through my head and I shook my hair out of my eyes.
Sorvang was picking herself back up, the keelut were stalking towards us, and without thinking, I reached out, wrapping my arms around the coyote and dragged it towards the wards.
Something whipped through the air at me and I turned, but not fast enough. Fire laced across my cheek and I felt blood drip down my face.
But I kept moving. We were so close. My arms and back burned with the effort. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a keelut leap for us and I fell backward.
We bumped and rolled, with me sprawling on the coyote. I was coiled in a ball, waiting for the hot breath, the slice of claws and the gnashing of teeth.
But they never came.
We’d made it through the wards. Relief swamped me, making me giddy, and I looked up. The Spider Demon and the ghost dogs were gone. Nothing could be heard but the howl of wind. Snow began to fall.
Something moved below me and I sat back, realizing I was on top of the coyote. Scrambling back, I watched as it sat up, shaking itself off painfully.
“Are you okay?” I asked, then immediately felt stupid for asking such a question.
No. He sounded exhausted, its head dropping towards the ground. But I have to go after her.
“What? No!” I almost shouted, squeezing the chain in my hand. “Absolutely not. Don’t be stupid! You’ll die. You can barely walk – you should have never left in the first place.”
The coyote turned away from me and said nothing.
“I got this,” I said, and held up the necklace. This close I could see it wasn’t a chain, but a rope of woven silver web, with strange filaments caught in it, like mica. A stone arrowhead, small and unremarkable, hung from one end. “Do you recognize it?”
Letting out a huff of air, the coyote came over and nosed it. One of her tricks I’d guess–
At the same time, I reached out a tentative hand, touching the coyote’s head where it wasn’t injured. Please let me try to heal you.
Heat poured from my hand in contact with the coyote and its pupils went huge. I couldn’t move and then light flashed, blinding me. It was the blue-white glow of moonlight and I fell back, the rope now hot in my hands. Dropping it in surprise, I heard it hiss against the snow. Then I heard other noises, but it took me a moment to blink the motes of light from my eyes.
“What just happened?” I asked, groaning, as I sat up.
Then I froze.
The coyote was gone. A man was kneeling in the snow, his back towards me, and he slowly stood up. I followed his progress, my heart pounding in my ears. Suddenly I felt hot and cold all over. Aware of everything. The way my hair was dripping wet, the cut on my cheek stinging and dripping, the blood on my jacket, the snow in my boots and my damp, foolish pajama bottoms.
Slowly he turned around and I saw his face.
And suddenly I was nine years old again, standing in a snowy wood in a place far from here, meeting the defiant, desperate eyes of a boy with a dying bird in his arms.
I gasped as dizziness filled me. It’s not possible.
But I was standing up, slipping on the snow, running to him. I thought my heart would tear itself out of my chest before I got to him. Then I was throwing my arms around him and trying desperately not to cry as I pressed my face to his chest.
He let out a surprised sound, his breathing unsteady above me. And then, almost as though it was against his will, he was hugging me back and I could feel the ridge of his jaw against my hair.
“Burr,” I said, turning my face and letting my ear press against his heart to reassure myself this was happening. It was slamming underneath my ear, probably the adrenaline from the fight. “Oh Burr, you’re alive.” I watched my breath fog in the air and the snow swirl against the dark trees. The world, which had seemed a mass of darkness, suddenly lightened. There was beauty again.
A few tears slipped free as the terrible grief and guilt in my chest unknotted, and I breathed out the same words again, as though I needed to convince myself.
“You’re alive.”
Chapter 5
Willow’s voice was so soft, I almost wondered if I was imagining what she was saying. It made my heart leap in my chest, even as dread twisted in my stomach. But just as I was about to ask her why she’d thought I was anything but alive, pain ripped up my side. With a gasp, I sagged against her, nearly knocking her down.
But she was stronger than she looked and kept me upright. Pulling back, I saw shock and worry in her dark gaze. “Burr? What is it? Oh, Burr.” Her eyes traveled across my face and then lower. “You’re so beat up. Come on.” She pulled me upright and then let me go slowly. “Hold on.”
Leaving me standing, one hand holding my side, I could barely rejoice in the fact that I was a man again or wonder what Willow might be thinking. She darted, picking up the necklace she’d stolen from Sorvang, stowing it in her pocket, and then raced to grab her father’s rifle.
I wanted to smile, seeing her stride across the snowy landscape towards me. Dark woods rose up behind her, her cheeks were flushed with color, and even wearing pi
nk pajamas, an oversized jacket and beat up boots, she still carried herself like a princess.
“We have to get back before the storm gets worse,” she said in a clipped tone, throwing my arm around her shoulders and then slipping an arm around my waist. “Let’s go.”
I resisted, glancing over my shoulder to where Sorvang had vanished. “No, I should go after that demon. She did something–”
“Burr!” Willow snapped, and I met her eyes again. To my surprise, this close, I could see they were glassy, rimmed with red and shadows. “You cannot. Don’t be a fool.”
Though her words were as cool as the air around us, I could see the anxiety and fear in her eyes. And the exhaustion.
With a sigh, I nodded, and we began the long trek back to her house. It seemed to take forever. Each step was torment, the snow becoming thicker and lashing down from the sky, and sleep pulling at me.
Willow was ferocious though, dragging me through the storm, although she didn’t say one word the entire time. Finally we entered through the patio door, the room now familiar and cozy, and I couldn't suppress a feeling of relief.
She dragged me straight through, trailing mud, water, and blood across her kitchen, till we entered her bathroom. It was big enough that Willow could deposit me by the wall and I leaned my head back against it, my vision going in and out. Everything last part of my body hurt. And I still was clutching my side, my hand now feeling frozen in place.
I watched as she shrugged off her jacket, then kicked off her boots, racing out and then coming back. A phone was in her hand. Biting her lip, she stared at me and I watched her, almost feeling like I was in a dream now.
“Damn!” she exploded, and her knuckles went white. “The phone lines must be down.”
As though to ascertain this, the wind rose in a whine around us and the house seemed to shake. Then Willow was at my feet, untying my boots and yanking them off, followed by my socks. Next came my jeans, then she reached for my shirt, which was nothing but black tatters.
HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters Page 36