by M. D. Massey
“Kitsune—explains how you’re so sneaky, anyway.”
He nodded exuberantly. “Oh yeah, kitsune are good at that stuff. Magical ninjas, almost.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I can see ghosts, too. Shitty talent, really, cuz once a ghost figures out that you can talk to them, they’ll never leave you alone. There’s a bunch hanging out at your camp, by the way. Kinda weird, since I never—”
I cut him off mid-ramble. “Any idea why the government would engineer that trait into your DNA?”
“None. Probably a mistake. Now, if only they’d been able to genetically engineer some hair on me. I—” Larry stopped mid-sentence, sitting up like a prairie dog with his front paws in the air. His ears swiveled left and right, and he let out a low whine. “Aw shit, we gotta hide!”
“Hide? From what?”
“Skinwalkers,” he said, his voice trailing off as he disappeared from view.
Great.
Before Larry had faded off into the night, I had Dyrnwyn out and a lightning spell readied in my other hand. Faint crackles of electricity jumped between my fingers and they ran up and down my forearm, lighting the area around me with an eerie blue-white glow. I didn’t need the light to see, of course, both due to my naturally-heightened senses and because I was already stealth-shifting. Enhanced senses were part of the Fomorian package, after all.
Two shadowy shapes loped out of the darkness, just to the edge of the pool of light. The pair looked somewhat like transformed werewolves, half-human and half-animal, but twisted and distorted in a way that made my stomach churn. Their bodies were long, lean, and covered in short, grey fur that faded to tan and white in places, mostly on their undersides and chests. They moved on all fours in a manner that was both graceful and disconcerting at the same time, as if their limbs were popping in and out of joint with their every stride, in contrast to the quicksilver smoothness of their gait.
But strangest of all were their faces. They looked much more human than animal, muzzles only slightly elongated with most of their human features still in place. The lead skinwalker’s eyes flashed red as my spell flared slightly, while the one trailing had gold-yellow irises that shone in the night. That one scowled at the sight of me, while the apparent leader maintained a poker face that betrayed little in the way of emotion or intent.
Since they’d shown no aggression, I decided to keep Dyrnwyn’s blade extinguished. Besides, I wanted to surprise them if worse came to worst. As they came to a halt they shifted, morphing out of that twisted, four-legged form that tied my stomach in knots. The pair rose on their hind legs, their spines straightening as their hair, teeth, and claws receded, giving way to burnished bronze skin and lean muscle. When the transformation was complete they were each naked, save for the coyote skins draped over their shoulders.
I raised my chin, half in greeting, and half in challenge. “Ernesto, Stanley. Fancy meeting you two here. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Stanley spoke up first, his eyes flashing gold in the dark. “We still have business, druid. I—”
“Sowi'ngwa, quiet!” the old man barked over his shoulder, instantly silencing his son. “As I told you earlier, you may settle your quarrel with him later—after he repays his debt to me.” Ernesto turned to stare me in the eye. “You’ve not forgotten our agreement, have you, druid?”
He hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen him, save for a few more scars and wrinkles. Wispy tendrils of shoulder-length white hair blew in the faint breeze, in stark contrast to his weathered brown skin and the thick gray-brown hair on the pelt that rested across his shoulders. The old man was lean and wiry, with just a hint of fat and loose skin around his midsection, but not so much that you’d mistake him for being soft. His ropy muscles and calloused hands spoke otherwise.
But it was the cold and uncaring look in his eyes that gave him away. This was no harmless old man, no fragile retiree content to collect pension checks and watch reruns on television. No, this man was a killer, and age had only tempered and hardened him in that regard. Unlike his son, Ernesto Bylilly was not a man to be trifled with.
“I remember, and I wondered when you’d come to collect. Kind of strange timing though, tracking me down while I’m on vacation. Speaking of which, how’d you find me?”
Ernesto remained taciturn, his face an inscrutable mask. “As it turns out, my son isn’t a complete fool after all. Stanley guessed you’d go to the wolves for assistance. When you showed up at their hideout, he placed a tracking spell on their vehicles.”
“Impossible—I would have noticed,” I said.
Stanley snickered. “Nobody ever checks the tires.”
I will now, I thought as I turned my eyes on the old man. “This is all fine and dandy—I mean, really, it’s a pleasure to see you both—but I’m kind of in the middle of something. Is there any chance this could wait until I get back to Austin?”
The old skinwalker clucked his tongue. “No, druid, it cannot. The gods smile on me, because your path and that of my prey have converged.”
“Huh. And I take it the way I’m supposed to repay you has to do with this ‘prey’?”
Ernesto’s eyes flashed red again, and by some trick of the shadows his face took on a skeletal appearance. Creepy. “Indeed. There’s a creature here that I wish you to find and bring to me. The Mexicans call it La Onza.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—you do realize that I’m a druid, right? We’re not exactly into trophy hunting.”
The skinwalker’s son snorted. “I told you he’d go back on his word.”
His father shushed him with a hiss before turning his gaze to me again. “This is no ordinary animal, druid, and you’d be doing the people of this area a favor by hunting it down. La Onza is a supernatural creature, a predatory cat that has been known to hunt livestock, pets, and even small children on occasion. Many times, when mountain lions have been blamed for the deaths of humans in this area, it was La Onza who did it. Is that not reason enough to kill her?”
I released my spell—it was starting to make my hand itch. “You speak of this animal as if it were a person. No offense, but I find it hard to believe you’re concerned by the loss of a few human lives. Why do you want this La Onza dead?”
“I won’t deny that it is purely for selfish reasons. I want her pelt for a ritual.”
I sniffed and scratched my nose with a knuckle. “Would this ritual happen to allow you to take on La Onza’s form?”
He nodded. “It would.”
“So, obviously this creature must have some power you lack.”
“And that is why I’m asking for your help in hunting her down. La Onza is sly and able to blend in with her surroundings, much like a chameleon. And she can move more silently than any mountain lion, while leaving very little trace of her passing. Pfah! I’m too old to be chasing a dangerous animal through the mountains, which is why I need you to do it for me.”
“Why not get Stanley here to do it? He’s young and spry.”
The old man pursed his lips. “He is not capable of hunting such a creature. La Onza would feast on his entrails.”
Stanley sulked in the background, averting his eyes in shame at his father’s assessment. I almost felt sorry for him, and based on how I’d seen his dad treat him over the last several minutes, I could see why he was such a dick.
I rubbed the back of my head. “I dunno, Ernesto. I figured when you called that chip in, it’d be to ask me to help you grow bigger tomatoes or something. Didn’t expect you’d ask me to track down some animal and kill it.”
“Again, druid, this is no mere animal. It’s a dangerous creature, a man-killer. It deserves to be brought down.”
I exhaled heavily. “Give me some time to think about it. Once I have more information, I’ll make a decision and get back to you.”
Ernesto scowled. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours, and then I will come for your answer. But listen, druid—if you go back on your promise, you’ll be under my curse. And my magic is not
to be taken lightly.”
Instantly, he transformed, flowing like oil into his alien, half-coyote form before he bounded off into the night. Stanley glared at me for a moment, then he followed suit. After they were long gone, Larry reappeared beside me.
“Oh geez, this is bad—really bad!”
“Which part? The part where I committed to doing a favor for a very nasty person, and now those chickens are coming home to roost at the worst possible time? Or the part where I don’t want to do what Ernesto is asking, so I’ll likely have him for an enemy by this time tomorrow?”
Larry sighed and wiped his head with his forepaw. “Phew. I thought for sure you were going to take him up on it. La Onza is more than just some cryptid. She’s an old-school bruja—another magical shapeshifter.”
I rubbed my chin. “She’s human, eh? That could change things. Tell me what you know about her.”
Larry paced back and forth as he spoke. “I don’t really know if she’s fully human. If she was once, she hasn’t been in a long time. From what I’ve heard, she’s been around for a few centuries, and she protects the people who live along the Mexican border.”
“So she doesn’t eat babies, wilt crops, and spoil milk? Shocking.”
“Not even. In fact, Ernie and her have been going at it for years. That wily old skinwalker got a little too crafty for his own good. After the tribes ran him off, he had to find a new hunting ground. Well, he made the mistake of encroaching on land that La Onza considered under her protection, and the two have been enemies ever since.”
“I get the feeling there’s more to this than a little trespassing.” I rubbed my neck and rolled my head side to side to work the kinks out. It had been a long day. “Explain what you mean by ‘encroach.’”
“You know that skinwalkers who follow the witchery way almost exclusively deal in death magic, right?”
“Yes, I’m aware,” I said, thinking back to my initial encounter with Stanley. He might not have been the brightest bulb, but those death magic spells he’d thrown around were no joke.
“Well, I think it started with some grave robbery. La Onza was worried if she didn’t step in, Ernesto would be emboldened enough to do worse.”
“Smart of her.” I nodded. “And would he do worse, Larry?”
The dog-like creature stopped pacing and cocked his head at me. “He cursed me for stealing a few vegetables from his garden. Think about that for a moment. He locked me in this form over some produce, druid. What do you think a guy like that is capable of?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Something tells me I don’t want to find out.”
11
Once we made it to the visitor center, Larry took off to rummage around in the dumpsters behind the restaurant. I warned him that they were probably bear-proof, but he just gave me a snaggletooth grin and loped off into the darkness.
I checked the cell reception on my burner, then thought better of it and found a payphone. Before I even picked up the receiver, I graffitied the thing to ward it against surveillance. Not that I’d admit doing so to Jesse and Hemi, but it paid to be careful.
After looking up the person I needed to call using the burner, I searched my pockets for loose change. Empty. A cantrip tricked the phone into thinking I’d dumped a few bucks worth of quarters into it, and I dialed the number.
“Bueno?,” an older woman’s voice answered as she picked up the phone.
“Hello, Doña Leticia,” I replied.
“Ah, El Mago. Como estas, Colin?”
“I’m well, thank you.” I respected Doña Leticia a great deal, both for her skill as a curandera and for the quality of her character. Plus, I owed her, which was all the more reason to treat her with deference instead of my typical impatience. Out of courtesy, I waited for her to initiate the remainder of the conversation.
A short silence ensued, followed by a low sigh. “I’d hoped this might be a social call, but no such luck, eh, mijo?”
“I’m afraid not, Doña. My apologies,” I added, meaning it.
“The skinwalker has called in his favor, ¿verdad? And you want my opinion on whether you should do as he asks?”
“He wants me to hunt down a creature, but I think this being is more than just a magical beast. I’ve been told it’s a bruja in animal form.”
“Nagual,” she said.
“God bless you,” I responded, eliciting a chuckle from Leticia.
“Cállate, chiflado. You know what I mean. This bruja travels in animal form. She’s not a true shifter, not like los hombres lobos. But she has power if she is a nahuālli—and that is very old magic.” She clucked her tongue. “Is she evil?”
I shrugged, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. I only have one source of info on her, and I’m not sure if I can trust that person’s opinion. But he seems to think she practices white magic.”
She tsked. “White magic, black magic—you know better than to use those gringo words, Mago. Magic is a tool and nothing more. It’s the user that makes it evil, not the tool itself.”
She spoke the truth—even necromancy could be used to do good, under certain conditions. “You’re right, of course,” I agreed. “Suffice it to say that my source claims she’s been protecting the locals from Ernesto.”
More silence. “Then you know what to do, mijo. You should let an old woman rest, rather than waking her in the middle of the night to ask her for answers you already know.”
Her tone was good-natured, despite her chiding words. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Doña Leticia. Gracias por tu tiempo.”
She made a sound halfway between a hiss and shush. “Ay, Mago! Your Spanish is as bad as your healing magic. When this mess is done, come see me and we’ll work on both.”
“I will, Doña. Good night.”
“Cuídate, mijo. The skinwalker is a dangerous enemy to have.”
She hung up before I could respond. I placed the phone back on the receiver, considering her warning. Based on what I’d gathered, I was dealing two very powerful witches, and both were likely much more skilled at magic than me. Combine that with our current situation with the feds, and I was up to my ears in trouble as usual.
No way I’m doing that skinwalker’s dirty work, though. I guess I’d better find this La Onza, if only to warn her. Maybe she’ll have an idea about how to deal with Ernesto.
I was deep in thought when my druid senses warned me of someone approaching. I turned, half-dropping into a crouch until I recognized their gait. Not many people could move that silently in human form, and it was a dead giveaway who it was.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Fallyn said as she strolled out of the night, naked as the day she was born.
I focused very hard on maintaining eye contact, and being nonchalant about it. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”
“Enough. Well, all of it. I picked up your trail earlier, and followed you here after I caught a whiff of the skinwalkers.” She wrinkled her nose. “Phew, coyote and death, not a pleasant smell.”
I winked at her. “Why, Fallyn, I had no idea you cared so much about my well-being.”
Her expression soured slightly, but she couldn’t help but grin at my tease. “How’s Jesse doing?”
“She’s fine, I guess. She and Hemi were giving me hell right before I left.”
Fallyn crinkled her nose. “I’d say her upbeat mood is mostly an act, and done for your sake. We talked a lot on the way down, and emotionally, she’s a mess. Go easy on her.”
“I am, Fallyn, I am. But what I don’t get is how you can give me the full court press while still expressing concern for Jesse. Am I missing something here?”
The she-wolf stalked up to me, invading my space until we were nearly chest to chest. Clearly she was flaunting her current state of undress, and she smelled like musk and the desert night. She looked up at me, her hungry, almost-yellow eyes flashing in the light of the sodium lamp above.
“You kno
w how I feel about you, Colin. I’ve made it plain, and my sympathy for Jesse doesn’t change that.” She ran a finger from the hollow of my collarbone down my chest to my sternum, where she poked me with a razor-sharp nail. “You want my advice? Neither of them are right for you, because they both want something you can’t give.”
“And you, Fallyn? What do you want?”
“Me? You know what I want, and you also know that I accept you for who you are, without reservations or conditions. Can you say the same for the others?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Fallyn. You know that.”
She chuffed and shook her head. “It always is with you, Golden Boy. I’m patient, druid, but even a she-wolf’s patience has its limits. Suss out your feelings for the dryad and the serpenthrope, before it’s too late.”
Fallyn leaned in on tiptoe, but instead of kissing me, she nuzzled my neck. Then she was gone, melding like liquid shadow into the dark once more. I looked down, noticing that she’d left a small scratch over my heart, marked by a tiny bloodstain.
I do want her, and I’m always at ease when we’re together. She’s loyal, and there’s a soft heart under that rough exterior. And unlike Belladonna, Fallyn doesn’t go off at the drop of a hat. If that’s the case, why do I feel so guilty about entertaining the possibility of a relationship between Fallyn and me?
Larry spoke from my immediate left, startling me out of my reverie. “Don’t worry, druid. If you break her heart, old Larry’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
We were a few miles from camp when my druid senses alerted me that something else wasn’t right this night. I stopped, not checking to see if Larry followed suit, and I extended my awareness out into our surroundings. The desert was surprisingly alive with activity, especially at night, and it was relatively easy to use the surrounding fauna to zero in on the anomaly.