Rowan opened his eyes and scanned the immediate area. A sound had woken him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had heard, but as a coyote, he was far more sensitive than a human. The sun was still below the horizon, but the night sky showed hints that sunrise wasn’t far off.

Voices. They were muffled and still distant. He cautiously stood and walked to the edge of the scrub that filled the ruins of old buildings around his cellar. Gretta and Sofia were still sleeping and wouldn’t hear much unless he howled, but Gretta wasn’t in fighting shape. She’d had only a few hours of rest, healing both her tiger and elephant forms from bullet wounds while enduring days of relentless magic use.

As an immortal, he could recover magic quickly, and he wasn’t spending that magic on healing. His raven form was shot—literally, which felt like a serious long-term issue, but healing was outside of his domain. He wasn’t even sure he could risk shifting to raven form for Gretta to heal him. He might simply die before she could do anything.

He could hear people with a dog working their way in his direction. Without the dog, they probably wouldn’t find Gretta and Sofia, but with the dog, he didn’t think the cellar would be enough to hide them. He had maybe a minute before they’d be on him.

He rushed back toward the cellar. He needed to be close enough to clean the scent from the area with his remaining strength, but as far as he could manage to avoid the men finding the cellar by sight. He shifted into human form, pulled in magic, and spoke the magic word “Rescarnis.” He forced as much energy as he could muster to clean a wide area around the cellar.

Dust shifted subtly, imperceptible to his human senses, though he trusted the magic to wipe the scents clean from the area. With an effort, he pulled more magic in and shifted back into coyote form. Two shifts and a spell left him unsteady. He wobbled for a moment.

He mused that he was getting stronger with the increased recent magic use. Maybe he was building up endurance as he did more magic. The past few days had been the magical equivalent of weightlifting. It wasn’t that long ago that two shifts in a day would knock him out. He hadn’t done much magic in the past twenty-five years. He had shifted from coyote to human or human to coyote, but he’d go months as a coyote and never really pushed his magic channeling endurance.

A now-familiar female voice spoke into his head, but that didn’t make it less unsettling. Thank you for protecting Sofia.

Rowan looked around but saw nobody. I still don’t know who or what you are or if I’m losing my mind, but it’s super creepy that you are watching me.

I’m sure it’s unpleasant to feel watched. You’ve been the only one I can ask for help protecting Sofia. I wanted to take the chance to thank you in case… Well, in case there wasn’t another chance.

That’s not ominous, he thought.

There was a soft, sad chuckle in his mind. Thank you again, and good luck. He felt the presence of the voice retreat.

Rowan could hear the men closing in and had no more time for voices in his head.

He found a sandy area, made the most evident prints he could manage while still in sight of the cellar, and slunk back toward the voices. If they followed him now, they might think he was simply hunting in coyote form and that he had turned around when he heard them. He retraced his original path back to the edge of the scrub around the ghost town, hoping they couldn’t tell he had passed twice.

Three men and a dog walked closer. They were twenty yards away. The dog was sniffing the path that Rowan, Gretta, and Sofia had taken from the road. Two men in dark suits walked directly behind the dog with their guns drawn. A man in a gold dress shirt and green tie walked behind them, looking wary. He did not appear to be armed.

“I felt him pull in magic,” the man in the gold shirt said. “He shifted, so keep your eyes open for a coyote. He’s near.”

Rowan recognized the judgmental aura—a clear echo of Ellie’s disciple, relentless and implacable. He had sensed this man before. This man was the reason Rowan had planned to leave Arizona and go to California before the semi-truck incident. Ellie, his ex-girlfriend and the goddess of order, had hounded Rowan with her disciple for weeks, and now that disciple had finally cornered Rowan.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“It looks like multiple people passed through here,” one of the men in suits said. “He wasn’t alone.”

“He was last seen with a woman and a child. Evidence suggests the woman is a disciple of the Wild Mother. If we’re lucky, we’ll get more than one sorcerer off the street tonight.”

He realized they might not be here for Sofia at all. They probably didn’t know about Gabriela or Miguel. They might not look for Gretta or Sofia if he led them away. He needed them to focus on chasing him.

He took an exhausted breath, then darted into the open, directly across their path. His legs pumped as he bounded forward. He needed them to see him, and then he’d be off.

“There he is,” the gold-shirt man said.

Rowan was fast, but he couldn’t outrun a gun. There was a popping sound, a sting of pain in his shoulder, and a sense of falling.

“He’s down,” a voice said.

The world blurred into a wash of muted sounds and spinning lights as darkness claimed him.

When Rowan awoke, he was in a plastic crate for small dogs. He could barely open his eyes, and his vision was still blurry, but there was enough light and time to take in his surroundings. He was in the back of a moving car. He could smell two people, and he could hear them breathing. They were probably in the front seat.

His shoulder hurt and his eyes were heavy. He speculated that he had been shot with a tranquilizer. His limbs still felt very heavy, and he couldn’t even lift his head.

“I hope Victor is right about the coyote,” the guy driving said.

“You’ve seen what those magic freaks can do,” the passenger said. “If Victor says that the coyote is a guy, then he’s probably a guy.”

“I’m just saying that we’re going to look pretty stupid if we bring a wild animal to the office,” the driver said.

“Do you think Victor will use magic on him?”

The driver seemed to think. “I’ve seen his juju before. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“I get that I’m the new guy, but I can’t tell if I’m being hazed,” the passenger said.

“Most magic doesn’t look like much,” the driver said. “Victor says he can feel it, but to me, it mostly looks like the person using the magic says a non-sense word and gets lucky.” The driver wet his lips. “But, then, there are some types of magic that Victor says are gifts from the gods, and that shit is terrifying.”

The passenger shifted in his seat. “Like balls of fire or lightning from the sky?”

“I saw a woman create a ball of blackness—absolute nothingness—and it sucked my partner in. He was just gone,” the driver said.

“Wait,” the passenger said. “Was that how your old partner died?”

“Look,” the driver said. “Mostly, this is a cush job. We do surveillance and watch out for weird stuff, and mostly, it’s a bunch of nothing, but when things get serious, you gotta take it extra seriously. I don’t think Mike believed in magic, and now he’s… gone.”

“And the coyote back there can make us disappear?”

“If he could, Victor would have warned us,” the driver said.

“Did he warn Mike about getting vaporized?”

The driver was silent again. “Victor said that the lady had the power of the void. We didn’t know what that meant. Victor can be blunt and kind of a dick, but I think he would have given us more details if he had them.”

“What can this guy do?”

The driver coughed. “Victor said he’s a god of some sort.”

“No, shit? A god? And you just shot him with a tranquilizer dart?”

“I don’t think he can smite us, and from what Victor said, shooting him should work fine,” the driver said.

“You can kill a god with a 9 millimeter?”

The leather of the driver’s seat creaked. “I don’t think he can be killed. That’s why we’re supposed to lock him up and throw away the key.”

“Do you think he’s the Navajo trickster god?”

“I doubt it. He looks pretty white to me, and from what Victor has hinted, I don't think he's been a god very long.”

“Somebody can just become a god?”

The driver sighed. “I’ve seen weird shit. At this point, it’s safer to assume he did. Victor seems incapable of lying, but he’s a bit of a fanatic. I think he works for one of the other gods in this dude’s pantheon.”

“So, we’re helping in some sort of holy war,” the passenger said. “I’m not cool with that.”

“As far as I can tell, Victor’s god is about justice, order, and truth. That’s pretty much what we stand for. Besides, you do not want Victor to judge you. I saw a guy’s mind break from it. Made the vaporization thing look pleasant.”

The car came to a stop, and the driver shut off the engine.

“You carry the coyote’s crate. I’ll get the doors. If he wakes up, shoot him a few times. We put enough tranquilizer in him to keep an elephant out for a week.”

Rowan let his eyes fall shut again. Pretending to sleep would be easy since the tranquilizer hadn’t entirely worn off, though it was interesting to hear that it was wearing off well before they expected. Maybe he’d have a chance.