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He skids to a stop with his snout pitched high, catching my scent. And it’s only a moment later when another coyote appears—its fangs and fur coated with blood and the slimy remnants of some unfortunate kill.
The second I see them I know Leftfoot was right.
While Cade may not be a skinwalker in the traditional sense, he is able to assume other forms.
My fingers snake into my pocket, in search of the blowgun Leftfoot once gave me that was given to him by Alejandro, a Brazilian jaguar shaman, who also happens to be the grandfather Daire never met. According to Leftfoot, the weapon was carefully carved from a rare wood found only in the Amazon rain forest. But before he agreed to hand it over, he forced me to promise that I would only use it for self-defense.
The coyotes crouch side by side—noses twitching, eyes darting—just seconds away from discovering the place where I hide.
So why let it get to that point?
Why wait for them to attack me—just so I can claim self-defense—when I can easily snuff them out now?
I reach for a dart, pinching it by its raven-feathered fletch as I load it inside.
Then I slide one eye closed, narrow the other in focus, lift the small tube to my mouth, and take aim.
Watching as Coyote snarls. Lungin
g in a flash of gleaming eyes, gnashing teeth, and hot rancid breath pelting hard against my cheek. His jaw widening, ready to take another chunk out of me—
When he falters.
Stumbles.
Collapsing to the ground and howling in pain.
I smile triumphantly, though the smile soon fades when I lift my gaze to find Cade looming naked and bloodied before me, bits of animal carcass clinging to his skin.
I’ve hit the wrong mark.
“What the hell are you doing?” He drops beside Coyote, cursing bitterly as he drags on the fletch, yanking the dart from his neck. And damn if he isn’t smart enough to know it doesn’t end there. He lowers his head to the hit, molds his lips around it, and siphons the poison I’d placed on the tip, before spitting it onto the ground. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?” He shakes his head and glares, watching as I reload the blowgun and take aim once again. “Trust me,” he says. “You do not want to do that.”
“You have no idea what I want.” I wrap my lips around the tube, inhale a deep, purposeful breath, and blow once again.
Blow with everything that I’ve got.
Letting loose my own stream of curses when Cade dances free of the dart’s path, and turns into a coyote again.
The other one now fully recovered, they stand in solidarity before me—shoulder to menacing shoulder.
Eyes blazing with vengeance, leaving no doubt it’s my blood they’re after. And before I can run, before I can reload and take aim—they descend on me in a frenzy of ragged claws and sharp fangs.
thirty-four
Daire
The first thing I notice when I burst through the wall is the demon.
Or should I say, demons. After all, there’s an entire army of them.
The second thing I notice is how no one seems to be the least bit alarmed by the giant-sized, malevolent beings that surround them. Barely sparing a glance at the variety of tails, and hooves, and horns, and misshapen heads. Not to mention the faces that appear to be a grotesque mix of animal, human, and some other unidentifiable beast that originated in a very dark place.
The crowd just continues to shuffle along in their numbed and glazed state. And when it’s my turn to pass, despite my best efforts to blend with the rest, it’s not long before one of those long, ragged claws reaches toward me, as he shoves his face close to mine. Its dark slitted eyes peering so close, I break into a sweat.
This can’t happen.
I can’t afford to be outted.
