Terrified, Levi recited a benediction against evil. Even though he knew the words were useless against such a foe, doing so still brought him some brief comfort.
If the thing below heard his prayer, it gave no sign. Levi listened. He heard no birds, no insects, and no wildlife of any kind. The forest was silent. Even the wind had stopped. But despite the stillness, he was sure that the entity was laughing.
Horrified, Levi willed himself back to his body. He rushed backward, away from the hollow, soaring like a rocket past the river and the towns. He zoomed down to his body and felt it jump.
Levi opened his eyes. Blinked once. Twice. Smacked his lips together. His throat was dry and his mouth tasted like Dee had used it for a toilet. Slowly, painfully, his fingers uncurled from around the stick. His knuckles popped. Levi’s upper lip was warm and wet. He touched it gently and looked at his fingers. The tips were red. His nose was bleeding.
Stumbling to his feet, Levi leaned against one of the Dumpsters until he had regained enough strength to walk. After a few minutes, he felt better, but still dizzy and weak. He weaved across the deserted parking lot, using the flying staff for a cane. Dee whinnied in excitement when she saw him. Despite his fears, Levi smiled at her greeting. He pressed his face into her mane and sobbed. Tears flowed, mingling with the blood. He trembled against her until the storm had passed. When he pulled away, Dee nuzzled him. This made Levi cry again.
“Why me, Lord? What did I do to deserve this? Why not one of Your other warriors? Why is it that You always demand the most from those who love You the most? Should we not be rewarded, given an occasional rest, instead of just running from crisis to crisis, cleaning up Your messes?”
His stomach cramped. Levi bent over and threw up all over the pavement. The bile burned his throat. He brushed the tears from his eyes and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His nose was still bleeding. Straightening up again, he scratched Dee between the eyes. The horse’s tail swished back and forth.
“Come on, girl. Let’s go home.”
Levi climbed up into the buggy and stowed the flying staff. Then he grabbed the reins. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He found a crumpled handkerchief lying beneath the seat and stuffed the ends of it into his bleeding nostrils.
He couldn’t fight Nodens alone. There were things he needed. Items he had no access to. He needed help. Help from one of the people indirectly responsible for this mess.
It was time to prepare.
Tonight, he would begin fasting, so that he might be cleansed for the task ahead.
Tomorrow, he would pay a visit to Adam Senft.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The wind promised blood.
The coyote’s stomach growled in anticipation when she smelled it.
The coyote wanted nothing more than to return to her den before the sun came up, but she had a long way to travel before she could sleep.
The blood called to her. She intended to answer.
It had been a long, weary, and demoralizing night. At dusk, she’d risen from her den to hunt and forage. First she encountered a small dog that had strayed far from home. The coyote gave chase, but the dog was faster. It escaped. She decided not to pursue it. Panting, she drank cold water from a creek and looked for the darting, silver forms of fish. The stream was empty. She flipped a rock over with her paw and found a tiny crayfish. She snapped at it, dancing around to avoid the angrily waving pincers. The coyote devoured the crayfish in one bite, but the small morsel simply fueled her hunger.
Her wanderings had then brought her to the edge of the forest. The coyote sneaked through the backyard of a nearby farm house. She was careful. Cautious. The sounds of humans came from inside the home. The coyote stayed alert, listening for any sign that they were aware of her presence. After deciding it was safe, she crept undetected to the front porch. A fat, yellow cat lay on a lawn chair, licking its paws. The coyote’s muscles coiled. She tensed, preparing to charge, but the feline spotted her and leapt from the porch. The coyote dashed after her fleeing prey, across the yard and down a one-lane dirt road. Trees lined both sides of the driveway, but the terrified cat ran straight. The chase ended when the cat ran out into the main road and was crushed beneath the wheels of a tractor-trailer. The truck didn’t stop. The coyote watched from the bushes along the side. Twitching, the cat let out a pitiful, gurgling mewl. Then it stiffened and lay still. Steam rose from the body. The coyote stepped forward, drooling at the sight and scent of the fresh innards splattered all over the pavement— the rich liver, the tender intestines, an eyeball, warm blood. Before she could feast, another car came along. Then another. Their wheels thumped over the carcass, further spreading the gore. The coyote darted out into the road and snagged a shred of intestine, but oncoming headlights chased her back into the bushes again. Not wishing to suffer the same fate as her prey, the coyote left the area.
She came across a deserted campground and knocked over the garbage cans, snorting through their spilled contents with her snout. She found a few scraps—French fries, a pizza crust, and half of a hot dog—but not nearly food enough to sate her hunger.
The coyote felt sad—a lingering shame that couldn’t be cured with sleep or food or water. She was a hunter. Her kind were predators, unmatched by any other animal in these woods except for the black bear. And yet here she was now, nothing more than a scavenger. No better than a raccoon or a possum, stealing from trash cans, eating humanity’s refuse just to survive. Every year, the humans came farther into the woods, chasing away the other wildlife, and reducing her kind to this.
She missed her mate. She’d met him during her second winter, when the moon was full and yellow and new- fallen snow covered the ground. The scent of her heat had called him to her. He was strong and lean and large, standing over the other males that answered her call. She remembered his pelage colors: gray washed with streaks of black, with beautiful tan and reddish markings running down his legs. His ears had been erect and his tail full.
They’d rutted on the frozen ground, their body heat melting the snow around them. The coyote howled her passion to the full moon when her mate’s teeth nipped the back of her neck, holding her in place. Four months later,
