Harvest Hunting (25 page)

A tingle ran down my back.
Magic.
I may not always pick up on it, but this was tangible and felt comforting—like crawling into a warm bed with a thick quilt. A moment later, the room lay muffled and silent.

“Now we can talk safely, away from prying eyes.” Marion glanced at the clock. “The spell should last for about fifteen minutes.”

“I didn’t know you worked magic.” Since werewolves had an innate mistrust of magic, I had just assumed that most coyote shifters would, too. “I thought most canid Weres didn’t use magic.”

“Werewolves don’t, but coyote shifters? Some of the most magical weres around. We run Trickster energy, my feline friend. The great Coyote is inherently magical, and so are those true to his path. But we can talk about that later. I need to tell you something, and this must remain secret—if anyone asks, you didn’t find out from me. Got it?” She folded her muscled but lean arms across her chest.

“Got it.”

“I’m going to tell you a story. A legend among my people. This, my grandmother told me, in these words, and so I tell you now. You are the first non-coyote shifters to hear this story. At least from me.”

“We’re honored, and we will not abuse your trust,” Camille said.

Marion nodded. “Then I begin. A thousand and a thousand years ago, the Great Trickster gave his people the power to shape-shift into coyotes. It was a gift from him, for his people followed his path and had grown wise from his teachings. And for being so attentive, the Trickster bestowed a special gift upon the leader of the first tribe of shifters, whose name was Nukpana. The gift was a gem, and the gem shone like the sun. Nukpana wore the gem around his neck, a sign of the covenant between the Great Trickster and the shifters.”

Camille let out a little gasp but kept her tongue. Oh yeah, this was going just along the direction we wanted to hear. So the Great Trickster had possessed one of the spirit seals. Wonderful.

“The gem strengthened the peoples’ powers to dance with chaos and live through the unexpected. But as with all powerful gifts, the gem was two-faced, and Nukpana began to live
for
chaos rather than living
with
it.” Marion let out a long sigh. “Nukpana tipped the scales.”

I licked my lips. “He began to toy with the balance of order and chaos?”

“Correct. Nukpana began to practice dark magic, and his greed overcame his willingness to live in harmony with others. He used his knowledge of trickery and illusion for power rather than to make his peoples’ lives better. Soon, his son rose up with a group of those who were unhappy with the changes, and they forced Nukpana out, driving him into the desert. But there were some enticed by the sorcerer’s magic, and they followed him, setting up their own village where they threw themselves into learning the darker arts of chaos. They reverted to
Koyaanisqatsi
—a life out of balance. His descendents are known as the Koyanni.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” I said softly.

“The story does not end happily.” Marion shook her head. “Your friend is in grave danger if what I suspect is true.”

She continued as Camille and I listened, eating our food.

“The Great Trickster tried to turn the Koyanni from their path—it saddened him to see Nukpana use the great gift he’d been given to twist Coyote’s teachings. And so as the years went by and Nukpana fell further into the dark path, Coyote sent Akai, one of the Fox Brethren, into their midst to steal the gem and hide it. Nukpana, by now old far beyond any natural life span, abandoned his people and chased the cunning Akai through the centuries. Long after he fell, killed by the dust of time, the heirs of the Koyanni have searched for the gem, hoping that it will help them fulfill what they believe is their destiny. They remain true to the twisted lessons Nukpana taught them, far from their origins, and the Great Trickster still mourns the lost tribe.”

“So . . . the Koyanni . . . who followed Nukpana . . .”

“They’re considered the lost tribe by the rest of us. They turned from the teachings of the Great Trickster and fell into the shadows. The shadow tribes are scattered across the country now—but I know some live up here. And definitely down in Arizona. They could easily have chased down your friend and captured her, though I haven’t the faintest idea of why.” Marion shook her head. “The Koyanni are vicious and cruel . . . they use trickery to hurt. They don’t honor their word.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Question: You said some of the shadow path tribes are local?”

“Oh yes,” Marion said, her voice falling to a whisper. “They live up here, and they’re dangerous and magical and enticing. They use illusion to get what they want, and poisons of all sorts. If they wanted your friend, she’s dead and painfully so, unless they have a reason to keep her alive.”

Camille slid to the front of her chair, and the room seemed to take on a darker feel, as if the spell Marion had invoked was wearing off. “Do you know where they live?”

Marion looked up, meeting our eyes. She shuddered. “They walk the city streets. No wild places for them. They live in the urban areas; they haunt the suburbs. I don’t have an address, but I know they live in the city—I’ve heard rumors of a house in Belles-Faire, but I don’t know exactly where. I’ll see if I can find out anything. But you can be sure they’ve a hand in creating the Wolf Briar.”

Feeling like the enemy was all too close for comfort, I thanked her, and we left.

 

 

“Let’s head over to Mary Mae’s.” Camille pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s close enough to the time she gave you.”

“Sure.” As we sped along the streets, I finally looked over at her and said, “So Amber has one of the spirit seals. The one Nukpana wore. And now the Koyanni are after her. They must be able to sense it. Nukpana wore it for so long that it must still have some of his energy imprinted on it.”

“And they followed her up here—or contacted friends up here—and took her out with Wolf Briar. But why didn’t they just steal it off her when she was out in the hotel? Why kidnap her?” Camille shook her head. “There’s another piece of the puzzle we aren’t getting.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. There—that must be the house.” I pointed to a small house set back on a narrow, tidily mowed lawn. Camille parallel parked with an ease I’d never mastered, and we hopped out of the car.

I glanced at the house. Well-kept but ragged. Mary Mae and Paulo might be lower income, but they didn’t let that stop them from making the place as homey as possible. As I opened the chain-link gate, I could hear a dog bark—probably the backyard. We headed up the walk, but the place looked silent and too quiet.

Once we were standing on what passed for a porch, I noticed that the door was ajar. I gestured to it with a nod of the head, and Camille caught my gaze. She backed up, and I could tell she was summoning the Moon Mother’s energy just in case we needed it. I didn’t usually carry my dagger along with me, but I had a tidy little stiletto affixed to my wrist. Chase would have chewed me out if he knew I wore it—the blade was entirely illegal. But that never stopped us before.

I motioned for Camille to step back, and she plastered herself against the side of the house. Raising one booted foot, I slammed the door open and darted in, Camille right behind me. A glance around showed the living room was empty, but Camille tugged on my arm and nodded to the kitchen.

“I hear something,”
she mouthed.

We raced toward the open archway. I ducked through, and my first impression was one of blood. Everywhere. The walls were stained red, the floor covered in a pool of the thick, viscous fluid. And in the center of the pool—a woman, very pregnant. Very dead. Mary Mae. It had to be.

The scent made me reel, and I felt Panther waver, wanting to come forth.

Camille darted around the blood toward the back door, which was standing open, and disappeared into the backyard. I followed just in time to see her shooting an energy bolt at a thin, gaunt man who was racing for the back fence. It hit him, and he turned, snarling.

I raced past her, flipping the wrist blade open. “Stop right there!”

He pulled something out of his pocket and threw it toward me. The thing exploded on the ground. Wolf Briar. Fuck!

My senses reeling, I screamed for Camille to stay back, but those were the only words I managed to get out before Panther took over and I found myself shifting, transforming. The minute I was on all fours, I bounded after the man, who was clambering over the fence. In one leap, I cleared the chain-link and was on his heels. I chased him down the alley and got in a good swipe. The second swipe took him down, and he rolled over on his back, his eyes wide with fear.

I landed on his chest, growling, knowing I needed to keep him alive, but the scent of the woman’s blood was thick on his jacket, and a terrible anger welled up inside—fury that he’d taken her life, her child’s life, that he had put my sister in danger. Without thinking, I caught his throat in my teeth.

“No, no—” He tried to break free, his arms wrapping around my neck, but I clenched harder, and he let go. A crazed look filled his eyes, and I saw my own bloodlust reflected back at me—he was a killer, all right, I could feel it in his soul. And I could feel something else, too—he was Were.
A coyote shifter.

Without realizing what I was doing or how I was doing it, I began to read his thoughts, sensing him lash out at Mary Mae, seeing him thrill as he slashed her life away, feeling his relief that she wouldn’t be able to say a word about Paulo. He’d killed her to keep her quiet, and he’d enjoyed every second of it. The man was mad like a devil, and it was
his time to go.

Startled, I felt Greta next to me, and she gently rubbed my fur as I held him. She knelt beside me and whispered, “No—it’s not time for you to learn this. Delilah, back away.”

But I ignored her plea and with one garbled growl, I shook the life out of the coyote shifter. As he dropped to the ground, a limp dishrag, I nuzzled him, rolling him over. I felt so alive it terrified me.

By the time I’d licked her blood off of his chest, along with some of his own, Camille found me. She cautiously approached, her hand out.

“Delilah? Delilah, back away. We have to identify him. We have to call Chase because of Mary Mae. It’s time to come back, Delilah.” Her voice was soothing and yet commanding, and I found myself paying attention to her.

I let out a long huff, wanting to maul the freak some more, but then backed off and—this time slowly—changed back into myself. I still had blood on my face and the taste of it in my mouth, but by now it was part of who I was. Though I still got queasy when I thought of Menolly and how she drank blood, I was losing my squeamishness.

Staring down at the body, I cleared my throat. “He killed her. I know it. I felt it—in my Death Maiden aspect.” And even though I said it to soothe myself, in my heart I knew it was true. “The stench of death was on his breath. He killed her, and he enjoyed it.”

Camille stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Stand guard. I’ve called Chase. I’ll go back and wait with Mary Mae’s body.” She turned to go.

“How did you avoid the Wolf Briar?”

“Thanks to you, I managed to duck out of the way before the vapor caught me. You saved me. That big of a dose could have knocked me out for a good long time. I think I’m going to have to be very careful when we finally go up against this group.” She shrugged. “Either that or be prepared to take the consequences. Maybe Wilbur knows of a vaccine or something.”

As she headed back to the house, I could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

 

 

Chase knelt by the dead shifter. “What do I need to know?” The question was pointed. He did
not
ask me what happened.

“He attacked Mary Mae. We know that much. Her blood’s on his hands, and I’m pretty sure the murder weapon will have his prints on it. He must have dropped it in the house. And then he attacked us with Wolf Briar when we went after him. He’s a coyote shifter, Chase. He’s not human.”

“Any way to prove it?” Chase glanced up at me.

Ask Sharah to do a DNA screen. She’ll prove it. I chased him, and he turned to put up a fight. I shifted into panther form and . . .” I paused, realizing I could be in real trouble here if we couldn’t link him to the murder. I’d basically mowed him down.

Just then, Yugi joined us in the alley, holding up a paper bag. “I’ve got the murder weapon. Found it just outside the back door. Bloody prints on it. Looks like the guy was doing something with her blood when Camille and Delilah interrupted him.”

“Probably harvesting it for something.” I let out a long sigh. “These coyote shifters . . . Chase, they aren’t like other Weres. They aren’t like Marion and her group. They’re dangerous and they’re deadly and they have no remorse. They don’t give a flying fuck about anybody else, and they’re power hungry.”