Eileen Wilks - Humon Error

I told you why I’m here.

You told me what we hunt. You didn’t explain why you’re here instead of Raven. Why you’re riding around in Havoc instead of a body of your own. You haven’t even told me why you need me along.

The terrier cocked her head. I’m sure you’ll prove useful somehow. You did bring me dinner . . . no, no, don’t raise your hackles at me. Sly amusement coated the next words like oil on water: You’ve never forgiven me for whatever I did when you came calling in the other world, have you?

You’ve probably misdirected so many questers you can’t be expected to remember all your tricks.

Silence, then, softly: Not so many. Not anymore. The new people don’t know us, and our people have forgotten so much . . . Even those few who still attempt a spirit quest seldom make it into the other world where we can guide them.

For the first time, there were echoes and ghosts in that voice . . . shades and shadows and years upon years. For the first time, Benedict felt . . . a Presence. Not just power, but Presence.

Coyote shook off the mood physically with a brisk shake of the little terrier’s body. Ah well, times change. As for your other questions—Raven was busy, and this is more my sort of job, anyway. I’m with Havoc because she offered to host me, and it’s devilishly hard to affect anything in your world without a body.

You had a body when you were in the barn scaring the stallion.

Do you have any idea how much power it takes to manifest physically? Especially when a bungling neophyte does the calling. Only a small part of me was able to slip through, not enough to maintain a body. Fortunately, little Havoc here was happy to share.

The terrier wiggled again as if she’d been stroked.

Maybe she had. Who knew what Coyote—even a small part of him—could do? You didn’t tell me why you want me along.

I didn’t, did I? Some things I like to make up as I go along. It’s time we were going.

Going where?

I found him again.

Temper rolled in like a thunderhead. And you’re just now mentioning this?

I just now found him. I believe he must have gone into a town. So many other presences so close together could have masked his.

You could have told me that earlier.

I didn’t know it would work that way. His dethru—

Dethru? Benedict asked.

Like a spirit guide, only more intrusive. That one hasn’t been in this world for a very long time, so I had no experience of looking for him in a town. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m able to think and move at the same time. The little Jack Russell started trotting, tail up, head high, eager for adventure. Give it a try. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it with a little practice.

Benedict growled . . . and followed.

Everyone was very sympathetic to Arjenie about Benedict. It set her teeth on edge. “He did not just run off,” she said again—this time to Uncle Clay. “He ran after the bear.”

“I know, sugar.” He patted her hand. “I don’t think he was hurt too badly.”

She was sitting between her aunt and uncle in Robin’s pickup, headed back to the house. The twins were being dropped off by one of the deputies. Arjenie had arranged things this way because she had things to tell them that Seri and Sammy didn’t need to hear.

“He’ll come back to himself and find his way to us,” Robin added in a reassuring voice.

“He hasn’t lost himself. Being wolf doesn’t make him not himself.”

“But he thinks differently as a wolf. He told us that.”

“Thinking differently is still thinking. He didn’t just mindlessly chase the bear. He had a reason.” Something about the way Clay looked at Robin and she looked back made her exclaim, “You are being so soothing! What is it you aren’t saying?”

“Well—just that lupi sometimes go wolf, don’t they?”

“Go . . . are you talking about that stupid Howl movie? They most certainly don’t, not that way!”

“But they can lose themselves in the wolf.”

“That’s called being beast-lost, and it’s rare, and only happens if a lupus spends way too much time as a wolf, or in other highly unusual circumstances. It has not happened to Benedict.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“I’m positive.”

Another glance exchanged around her. “The sheriff’s had some training about this sort of thing, and he thinks Benedict has gone wolf.”

“And you think Sheriff Porter, who never even met a lupus before tonight, knows more about them than I do? When I’ve been living with them for two months and am now part of Nokolai clan?”

Uncle Clay winced. “That’s something I’d like explained.”

“Later.” She waved it away. “If Sheriff Porter has decided Benedict’s beast-lost, does he think he’s dangerous? Is he going to have people hunting the bear, or hunting Benedict?”

Uncle Clay’s frown kept digging deeper into his face. “The bear will be his first priority, but . . . maybe we should call Porter.” That seemed to be directed at Robin.

“I’ll call him,” Arjenie said, and bent to dig out her phone.

“No, let me.” Robin had her phone out already. She gave Arjenie an apologetic smile. “He’ll listen to me better. He still thinks of you as the young girl he met so tragically all those years ago.”

He wasn’t the only one who didn’t seem to notice that Arjenie had grown up. It was distressing. She was thirty-two. Her aunt and uncle had treated her like a responsible adult for years. What was it about her falling in love that made them think she was thirteen?

Maybe because it happened so suddenly. And with someone they’d never met. Someone who turned into a wolf at times, brought her into his clan, caused her to move across the country all of a sudden . . . She sighed. This was why she had to tell them about the mate bond. They’d probably still worry, but they’d be worrying based on fact, not imagination.

Robin had connected with the sheriff and was using her Voice of Authority—the one that combined CEO with Wiccan High Priestess. It worked on almost everyone.

“You’re planning something,” Uncle Clay said suddenly.

“Well, it’s up to me to figure out what Benedict expects me to do, isn’t it? Then do it.”

“Arjenie.” Her uncle spoke firmly. “The only thing he could possibly expect of you is that you’ll go home and wait for him.”

“No, he knows me better than that. Never mind. There’s something I need to tell you, and something we should discuss. I’m going to hit the second one first. I think we’re dealing with a skinwalker.”

Dead silence. Finally Clay said, “You ought to be joking, but you aren’t.”

“Hear me out. I don’t know how many of those bullets actually hit the bear, but some of them must have. The sheriff and both his deputies kept firing. Did you see that they had any effect on it at all?”

“No,” Robin said, “but that doesn’t mean the bullets didn’t hit. That was one huge heaping of bear. And even if you’re right about that, a magically defended bear does not equal a skinwalker.”

“There’s more that does suggest it, however. First, we know that Coyote’s here. He had to have a reason to show up, and it wasn’t to protect me from Benedict, despite whatever Sammy and Seri had in mind. So there’s a connection to Native Powers.”

“Maybe it was Coyote, maybe not. I agree that there may be some connection between this bear and one or more Native Powers, but none of that adds up to skinwalker.”