Coyote's Howl (Cape High Series Book 17), page 1
Coyote’s Howl
by
R. J. Ross
Coyote’s Howl
Amazon Edition
Published by Book Candy Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by R. J. Ross
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by Leslie Zielinski
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
~Other works by R.J. Ross~
The Winstead Files Series
Courting the Beast * Snow White, Snow White
Seasons of the Fae Series
Raven's Return * Death of a Dryad * Water Wielder
Cape High Series
Super Villain Dad * America's Grandson * Hello Kitty * Don't Know Jack * Daddy's Girl * Aces Wild * Steampunk Time * Fire Hazard * Ditto Ditto * Sunny Daze * Life Light * Guitar Hero * Super Girls * Shadow Boy * Super Villain Grandpa * Mic Drop * Coyote’s Howl
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
“The Coyote story!” the four-year-old says, bouncing on the bed excitedly. “Coyote story! Coyote story!”
“Okay, but only once,” his mother says quietly, looking at the door of their small room with hesitation, “and only if you get in bed like a good little boy.” He hesitates, but drops down on the bed, letting her pull the sheets up over him. “There are many stories about Coyote,” she starts out in a smooth tone. “They spread throughout the people. He is a trickster, an imitator of the Creator, a helper and a hinderer, to each people, he is someone different.”
“And?” the boy prompts.
“And he is,” she says. “But the first Coyote was not. Long before the white man came, back when the people traveled the land, hunting for their food, and living wherever they wanted, there was a baby born,” she says.
“One like me!” he says.
“Oh, no, one much, much younger,” she says. “His mother was a strong, beautiful woman, but his father… his father was from far away. The baby grew and became a boy—”
“Like me!” he says, intent on seeing himself in the story.
“Just like you,” she agrees, smiling. For a moment the tenseness in her expression fades and she reaches out, messing up his fluffy golden hair. “He grew fast and strong, and he grew more powerful than all the other boys in his tribe.”
“They didn’t like him?” he asks with a worried look.
“No, they did not,” she says. “They were angry that a boy younger than they were, was faster, stronger, and a better hunter. They trapped him one day, in a dense part of the forest. They started throwing sticks and rocks at the boy. It hurt.”
“And then? And then?” he asks eagerly, his eyes huge with both worry and excitement.
“And then he changed,” she whispers to him. “He changed into a huge, angry grizzly bear!” The boy hops to his feet on the bed, raising his arms over his head and roaring. “No, no no no no,” she says as she grabs him, pulling him down to the bed. “Not here, Lance,” she says, covering his mouth with her hand. “Not now.”
Her reaction surprises the boy and he goes silent, confused. “But—”
“Not tonight, sweetie,” she says, trying to look confident. “Get back under the covers. It’s bedtime.”
“Mommy?” he asks. The story usually goes a lot longer than this. Instead of an explanation, he gets a kiss on the forehead and tucked into the bed.
“Go to sleep, honey. In the morning…” she looks at the door. “We can have more story time in the morning,” she promises. He nods, clearly worried. She stands, kissing him again before heading out the door. It closes quietly behind her. The only light in the room is the moonlight coming through the window, tilting across the bed that suddenly feels much too big for one little boy.
For a moment he stays there, cowering under the covers, wondering when she’ll get back. They’re staying with a stranger for the night. That, in itself, isn’t a new thing. He and his mother are always moving around. But the man they’re staying with tonight, he’s not like the usual people. He’s scary.
Lance crawls out of bed, heading for the door and opening it as quietly as he can to peek out. His mommy is talking with the scary man. He can hear them from where he is. “He IS your grandson, Father,” she says. “He’s going to grow up to be a Coyote—”
“He’s white,” the man says coldly. “He’s got blond hair and blue eyes—”
“He doesn’t have blue eyes,” she protests. “And his hair isn’t blond, it’s just sun-bleached brown!”
“Close enough,” he says. “How could you claim that boy as a Coyote?” he demands. “We’ve been many things over the generations, but we’ve never been blond.”
“He is NOT just blond! He’s my son,” his mommy snaps. “He’s a beautiful, smart, and kind little boy that deserves to know his heritage, Father. He’s your heir.”
“He is NOT my heir! I have been down that path and we both have seen how it turned out. And you cannot claim him as that,” the scary man says. “You gave that right up when you left our people—”
“I don’t see you living with the people now, either,” she says coldly. “We’re not on a reservation. What happened, Father? Did they kick you out, again? Was it because of him?”
“You can leave in the morning,” the scary man says. “Take the boy with you.”
“How can you be so hateful?” Lance’s mommy whispers. He can smell her tears, he thinks, cowering behind the door. A part of him wants to run out and stop them from fighting, but he can’t seem to move. There’s a strange pressure filling the house that has him glued to where he’s standing.
“You and the boy need to leave,” he repeats. “I’ll let you stay for the night, but in the morning you had better be gone.”
“We’ll leave now,” she says.
“Hello, little boy,” a man says from behind Lance. Lance jumps, nearly wetting himself from the shock. He turns, looking up at the most terrifying man he’s ever seen. The man looms in the air, huge and hairy. He smiles, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs.
***
I wake up. I find myself staring at Freddy, blankly, who’s got a resigned look on his face. I open my mouth to ask what I’m doing there, only to let out a little whine, instead. Crap, I must have night-shifted again. I look down, seeing what I am. Coyote, I realize as I see the familiar skinny legs and familiar paws. Absently I reach up with my hind leg, scratching behind my ear.
“Can you at least get off of me before making yourself comfortable, man?” Freddy asks, yawning. “You’ve got to stop crawling into my bed in the middle of the night—you get my sheets furry,” he complains, shoving me off of his lap. He could have done that when I first crawled into his bed, and we both know it. I need to learn to sleep alone, and I know that, too. I swear I always start out in my own room, I just tend to… night travel. It’s like sleep-walking, but with paws, I guess.
I yawn and jump off of the bed, stretching without bothering to take on my human form. I feel weird, though, being a coyote after having that dream. I shift with a full body shake, turning into a golden retriever, instead. The dream is lingering in my mind, and I feel a bit confused. I’ve had it before, sure, but this time it had seemed so real. It feels more like a memory than a dream, but I can say for certain that I don’t remember the furry looking guy at all. You’d think I would remember something like that.
“Morning, Lance,” Kaden says, rubbing my head as he walks past. I let out a little bark in return, heading for my room. There are a few beds in my room. One is a human bed, one is a large animal bed, and another is for small animals—and has a heat lamp over it. I hardly ever spend the night in any of them. I sigh and close the door before shifting and heading for the closet to pull out clean clothes. I hear a knock on my door, but barely glance over my shoulder, sniffing the air.
“C’mon in, Rocco,” I say, picking a shirt and a pair of pants.
“How do you do that?” Rocco asks as he comes into the room. He looks around curiously, since this is the first time he’s been in my room.
“I can smell you,” I say, making a face that he can’t see as I get dressed. A nose-blind man could smell him. It’s part of his abilities, you could say. He travels through this strange sulfur-smelling dimension to get places faster.
“I’ve been looking for aftershave or something to cover it up,” he says, sniffing his sleeve. “So far everything I’ve tried doesn’t work. They just manage to add to the stench.”
“So… um…” I say, looking at him, finally. “What do you need?”
“What makes you think I want something?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels in a way that shouts he’s lying. “Maybe I just wanted to hang out?”
“At seven in the morning?” I ask, looking at my clock.
“Want to go to breakfast together?”
My stomach rumbles loudly and I feel embarrassed. “Okay,” I say. I hate feeling hungry. I mean, I hate it with a passion, to the point where I feel sick when I realize that I’m getting hungry. Ken says it’s a phobia. I guess it would be. When I was in the ‘zoo’ I was practically starved to death because they were afraid I would shift and sneak out through the slot our food came through.
“Lance,” Rocco says, making me jerk slightly and look at him. “Come back to us, buddy.”
“I—” I say.
“Fantasizing about the pancakes, right?” he says with an easy grin. “I woke up to the smell of bacon. I’ve gotta admit, Vinny sure makes a great breakfast, right?”
A little smile pulls at my lips at the reminder of where I am, and how things work here. “Yeah,” I say. “I can smell the bacon, too.” I can, I realize as I start to drool. I head past him, running down the hall and into the cafeteria. There’s a line, already, and I stare at it for a long moment, my heart breaking as my shoulders slump and I head to the back of the line. My stomach rumbles again, and I can literally feel the line go still.
Jimmi is standing at the counter, but she looks over at me. There’s a hesitant expression on her face and her eyes seem to glow a little more brightly. Before anyone can say anything, though, Vinny steps out of the kitchen with a tray of food in his hands. “Lance,” he says.
“I can’t—” I say as he holds out the tray. “I’m in line—”
“Take the food, Lance,” Justin says. He’s at the front of the line. I don’t think he even knows what the problem is, but he’s going along with it. I feel like a charity case.
“There’s a reason that people have lines,” I say, only to blush as my stomach rumbles again. The tray is pushed into my hands.
“Sure, there’s a reason,” Vinny says, “but nobody wants to listen to that, so go eat,” he orders me before heading back into the kitchen. I look at the food and head for the nearest table to dig in. That’s not right. I bet every single one of them is as hungry as I am. I shouldn’t be treated specially.
“Save me a seat, okay?” Rocco says, patting me on the shoulder. I nod, my mouth too full of food to say yes. I swallow loudly and look over my shoulder, but he’s already in line. I go back to eating. Kaden drops down in front of me with a tray almost as heavy looking as mine had been. The seat next to him moves and I smell Brandon and his food, and hear him start to eat as well. Soon my table is packed, save for the chair next to me, since I keep waving people away. I’ve been finished for a while by the time Rocco gets to sit down.
He looks at me curiously before starting to eat. He wants something, I think. It’s a little hard to tell with Rocco, because he usually tries to be friendly with everyone. But our Christmas vacation is almost over, so that means he should be going back to work, right? He was running around looking for escaped convicts before Christmas break, and I don’t think they’ve caught them all, yet…
“Hey, Lance?” he says as the others head off with their trays.
“Yeah?”
“How much control do you have over normal animals?”
I stare at him blankly. “What?”
“Can you get them to do things? Like… even if they’re wild, or they have a different owner,” he says.
“I have no idea,” I say after a long moment. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“No, I’m being serious,” he says. “Have you ever tried?”
“Tried to… what, talk to the birds?” I ask.
“It sounds stupid, I know,” he says, “but it’s something that’s been bothering me for a while.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I… well, you know, I…” He goes silent for a moment before groaning. “I was wondering something stupid,” he admits.
I look at him for a long, long moment, and then finish off my milk. “Yeah, okay,” I say, standing.
“Okay, you’ll try controlling animals?” he asks, getting up as well. “Or ‘okay, you’re being crazy’?”
“I’ll try persuading the animals, and yes, you’re being crazy,” I say. “But classes don’t start until next week, right? So why not? I’ve got no chance of beating Nico in the game.” Not that I haven’t tried—I have. We all have. The closest I ever got was when Brandon, Freddy and I teamed up with the Liberty boys. It took us hours, and we still only got to be level tens.
“Then, ah,” he says, looking stunned, “I guess I’ll go get permission from Nico to go out.”
Out? I freeze for a second, looking at him as he pulls out his phone. I want to go out! “I’ll go get my leash!” I say excitedly, heading for my room.
“Lance, you don’t need a—” I hear him say.
“Just let him get it,” half of the room says.
Look, I’m not a pet. I know that better than ANYONE. But sometimes running around without a leash on is more troublesome than you’d think. Besides, it’s basically a strip of Velcro—I can get out of it no matter what form I’m in. “I’m getting the Frisbee, too!” I call out my door, excitedly.
“Sure, fine,” Rocco says, giving in. “The park will work, I guess.”
I shove the frisbee and my leash into my bag and head back into the rec room, excited. I could definitely use a good run. Sure I could go for a run here, but the only trees in the area are the ones in the greenhouse and the big one in front of the school. The rest of this place is dirt and rock, which gets boring after you’ve marked them all a few times. “I’m ready!” I say as I reach Rocco. “Did you get permission?”
“Lance, do you want me to come with you?” Kaden asks, making me look over. We’re almost the same age, but he makes me look like a short twig.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I say, squaring my shoulders and giving him a little smile. “Thanks.” I head out the door with Rocco following me. “So what’s it about?” I ask as we head across the campus and up the steps leading out of the canyon. He’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if he’s going to drop some deep, dark secret on me. Am I ready for deep, dark secrets yet?
“I can’t find Badmoon,” he says once we reach the exit.
“What?” I say.
“The wolf shifter that escaped from the Cape Cells, I thought I’d sit back for a month and let my old man do it, but he hasn’t found him, either. Don’t get me wrong, I pick up on his powers—but only briefly. I can’t predict where he’ll be next—and I’m almost positive that his energy changes whenever he shifts.”
“So why come to me?” I ask. “Why not Adanna?”
“I know you better than Adanna,” he says. “And… well, I know Adanna’s family line.”
There’s a long moment of silence as I let that sink in. “Wait, you think I’M related to this Badmoon guy?” I ask finally.
“Well… I—”
“I’m NOT related to him,” I say quickly.
“But—you don’t know who your family is, right? I mean, most of the school—”
“I know where I come from,” I say as I step out of the force field that surrounds the school. “I can turn into a wolf, but I’m not a wolf shifter. I didn’t get my abilities from my dad, either. I got it from my mother… and from my granddad, and his dad, and his dad before him,” as much as I hate to admit that relation. “I’m pretty sure my father was a norm, too. Is this Badmoon guy a blonde?” I demand.
“No,” he says.
“Then he’s not my dad.” I’m offended. I shouldn’t be, I know. I mean, the cape world is pretty small. There’s always a chance that there’s a relationship somewhere in the past. I just don’t like him assuming I’m something less than…
I sigh. “Sorry, Rocco,” I say. “I overreacted.”
“I’m the one that’s sorry,” he says. “It’s just your energy levels change when you shift, too.”
I blink. “What?”
“I thought that since there are a lot of similarities, there might be a connection,” he says. “But you know your family line? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or did you tell them before I started at Cape High?”
