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Jamison shrugged. Julie signed silently to Coyote, We know, but everyone likes it.
Coyote threw back his head and laughed, which earned him glares. After a few minutes of people murmuring about the Ghost Train’s presence, Heather sighed. “It’s moving on now. Shall we send it on its way?”
As one, everyone on the platform waved as though they were seeing off old friends. “Good night! Merry Christmas! See you next year!”
“Time to go,” Coyote said. His laughter was gone.
Jamison explained to Julie that she’d be going back to Flagstaff, but they’d come for her tomorrow to open presents and make the journey to Tucson to her grandparents’ house. He spoke with confidence that by tomorrow, everything would be all right.
Julie wasn’t stupid. She looked anxiously at Naomi, then signed to Coyote that she expected him to take good care of her mother and Jamison.
“I will,” Coyote said. He leaned down and kissed Julie’s hair. “I’ll keep them safe, sweetie. Promise.”
Jamison put his arms around Naomi as Julie got into Nicole’s SUV. “She’ll be fine with them. And if anything happens to us, your folks will take care of her.”
Naomi’s heart beat faster. She knew her family would help Julie more than Julie’s own father would, but the thought of leaving the little girl alone made her crazed.
She turned in Jamison’s arms. “Let’s get this bastard.”
Jamison smiled and kissed her. “That’s my girl.”
hen they reached the house, Coyote in tow, Jamison flipped on all the lights, inside and out. The flood of light made him feel better, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Coyote seated himself next to the Christmas tree in the living room, snapped the shotgun open, and started to clean it.
Naomi decided to make sandwiches while they waited, and while she was occupied, Jamison went out to his studio. He unlocked it, turned on the lights, and looked around. The wrought iron project he’d started two years ago still hung on the wall, his equipment ready for use.
Jamison wrapped the unfinished stone mountain lion in heavy cloths and carried it out. He didn’t lock the studio this time, and he set the padlock on the ground inside the door. When he reached the house, Naomi was still making sandwiches. Coyote had put aside the shotgun and turned on the television.
Jamison took the sculpture upstairs to Julie’s room and placed it on a shelf in her closet. He smiled at the clutter of little-girl things in her bedroom: magazine pictures of current male stars, posters of unicorns and ballet dancers, and stuffed animals all over the bed. Books spilled off shelves and lay in piles on the floor, from the latest young adult novel to classics like the Narnia series to the Navajo sto rybooks Jamison had given her. In Julie’s silent life, books were her connection with the world.
Naomi set a plate with a sandwich on the breakfast bar, and Jamison leaned on the counter to eat it. He wasn’t hungry, too keyed up, but he knew he shouldn’t drain his strength.
He caught Naomi as she turned away. He skimmed his hands up her back and kissed her lips, unable to keep from touchi
ng her.
“So we just wait for him to attack?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“It’s better this way. We have a base here, and it will be safer than going out to hunt him. He’ll come tonight.”
He kissed her. She melted into him, her fear and adrenaline flowing up to him. He wanted nothing more than to take her upstairs, bury himself in her, draw strength from her for the coming fight.
From the way Naomi kissed him back, she wanted it too. She pressed her thumbs to the corners of his mouth, put her tongue inside. Her hips rose to his, rubbing his hardness, which itched for her.
“Nice,” Coyote said. “Want to fuck while we wait?”
Jamison eased away from Naomi in regret. “It might not be a good idea.”
“I meant with me,” Coyote said.
Naomi gave him a withering glance. “Don’t you wish.”
“I do wish. That’s why I asked.”
“Keep your paws off my mate,” Jamison said, torn between amusement and possessiveness. Trickster gods.
“I meant with both of you.”
“No,” Jamison and Naomi said at the same time, and Jamison laughed.
