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Cold inched its way down my spine as I realized what had made that sound.
A big coyote, ears pricked up and tail held at attention, entered the clearing. It paused for a moment, seeming to survey its surroundings, and then began sniffing around the remains of the campfire.
Could it smell me?
I had no idea, since I’d never done much research on coyotes’ olfactory acuity. The animals had been in short supply in my neighborhood in West L.A., although I knew they could be a real problem to anyone who lived on the edge of California’s wilderness areas. Or even not so wild — they’d been spotted multiple times in Griffith Park and Runyon Canyon, both locations that weren’t exactly out in the middle of nowhere.
But the spot where I stood wasn’t located someplace relatively safe, like Griffith Park. If that coyote figured out I was here and decided to attack, all I had to protect myself was a walking stick and some pepper spray, both of which seemed pretty flimsy at the moment.
The coyote continued to sniff its way around, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I held my breath as best I could and hoped it would realize there was no prey here, no rabbit or packrat or whatever else it might have been looking for as its midnight snack.
After a moment, the coyote shook. A sign of annoyance?
I didn’t know, since it was facing away from me. Coyotes weren’t exactly my field of expertise, and I’d never had a dog growing up, since most of the apartments where my mother and I had lived didn’t allow them as pets.
And then….
The coyote shook again, and then seemed to shiver, and bulge…and grow.
Upward, upward, shifting from four legs to two legs. The grayish-dun fur transformed into smooth brown skin and shining dark hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail.
The coyote was Calvin Standingbear.
A startled gasp escaped my lips, and he immediately turned toward me. The moonlight was bright enough that I could see the way his eyes narrowed.
“Selena,” he said, sounding almost resigned, as if he somehow understood that he couldn’t have escaped the moment when I learned the truth about him, no matter how hard he tried to keep me at arm’s length.
He was wearing jeans and a dark T-shirt and boots. Where they’d come from, I had no idea. They’d just sort of…appeared.
“Um, hi, Calvin,” I replied as I stepped out from the shelter of my tree.
“What are you doing here?”
“Investigating,” I said. An awkward silence hung in the air for a second or two. But since there was no way to ignore what I’d just seen, I asked, “Do you want to tell me what all that was about?”
“Not really.” His mouth pressed into a hard line, and he shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“But I did see it,” I returned. “What, are you some kind of were-coyote?”
At once, he shook his head. “That’s not what we call ourselves. We’re shapeshifters, nothing more.”
Nothing more.I’d say that was enough on its own. I also realized he’d said “we,” and asked, “You mean all of the San Ramon Apaches are shifters?”
“Yes.” Just that one hard syllable, as if he’d realized it was pointless to lie to me but still hated the necessity of telling the truth.
No wonder they kept to themselves. Realization dawned in me…along with hope, even as I told myself not to get too excited. “This is why you dumped me? Because you couldn’t tell me that you were a coyote shifter?”
He winced slightly at the word “dumped”…but he didn’t try to deny it, either. “Yes. We’re forbidden to get involved with anyone outside the tribe.”
“Well, that’s a silly rule,” I remarked, and Calvin’s brows drew together.
“I don’t see what’s so ‘silly’ about it.”
“I do,” I said. I slipped the pepper spray back into my pocket and laid down the walking stick, then moved closer. The whole time, he watched me with wary dark eyes, as if I were the wild animal and he the human I was stalking. “You could have just told me the truth, you know. I’m a witch — I’m used to the strange and unusual.”
“There’s ‘strange and unusual,’ and then there’s this.”
Stopping a foot or so away from him seemed the safest choice. I didn’t want to push things too hard. “Can you control it?”
