Page 26 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

I turned to glower, but he’d shut the storm door too.

I faced the empty gravel drive. Part of me was tempted to linger, then try to track them. I’d noted that Vern cleverly didn’t mention where they were going today.

It was a lost cause. Unless I shifted and hopped into the back of the truck, they’d get away from me in a hot minute. A coyote was no match for Vern’s driving. And it was tough to track a vehicle.

With a sigh, I realized that my only option was to hoof it home and hope Wyatt didn’t avoid me like the plague.

Oh, and to face the wrath of my elder brother.

“Not like I’ve never done any of this before,” I muttered, then shifted into my fur and pointed myself in the direction of home.

Wyatt

Seriously,” vern said, which was probably the first thing he’d said to me since we’d left the house. we’d been cruising down back country roads for around twenty minutes, only the crunch of gravel and the occasional notes from the radio, when we had reception long enough to hear anything other than static, filling our ears.

“Seriously what?” I asked.

Vern drew back a little, although he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “WhyCameron?” He sounded … affronted? Disappointed? Maybe a bit of both?

“Uh,” I managed.

“Why not Cal?” Vern continued, gaze still glued to the road. I wondered if he was really seeing it, though, as he basically blew through a stop sign.

I twisted, looking over my shoulder. “Don’t bother,” he said.“It’s six on a Saturday morning, ain’t nobody coming through here at this hour.”

I wanted to argue, but he knew the place like the back of his hand.

“So,” he said, “Cameron.”

I twisted my mouth. “I don’t know,” I answered. It was honest, if nothing else.

Maybe it was because I’d seen him in the split-second before Bobby shot him. Maybe it was because there had been something we’d shared in that moment.

Attraction wasn’t rational. Emotions weren’t rational. Asking for an explanation was like asking someone to explain why they liked skydiving or something. There was nologicto it. They liked what they liked, and that was that.

Vern swung the truck down a long, oak-lined laneway. We bounced over a couple of potholes. I turned to look at him. “Did you know?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Did you know that coyote was Cam when Bobby shot him?”

Vern grimaced, then put the truck into park as we nosed up to a gleaming barn. The vehicle jerked to an abrupt stop as Vern turned to look at me.

He considered for a long moment, then said, “Bobby doesn’t know about shifters.”

I opened my mouth, but Vern shook his head. “And neither does Jed here, so you best hold your tongue. Understand?”

I clamped my mouth shut, nodding. Vern bobbed his head a couple of times, then opened the door and slid out of the truck. “Good.”

With a sigh, I did the same. My boots landed in muck, and I grimaced. Today was not off to a good start.

I wanted to ask more about shifters: did Vern know who else in town was a shifter? Cal had indicated there were more of themaround, and Vern knew about the Carlyle family and he clearly knew Bobby and Jed weren’t shifters.

And Vern had never answered me about whetherhewas a shifter or not. If he was, that would explain a lot about how he knew about the others.

But Vern hadn’t grown up here. Did that mean there were other shifter towns, scattered across the US? In other countries? Cal had said there were other animals too; some people shifted into horses and stuff.

I wanted to know more. I wanted tounderstand. There was this whole secret society of people who weren’t quite-human that had been, basically, living under my nose my whole life. Who could blame me for being curious?