I smiled, though it was strained. "Whatever. I don't think Bridger's creepy."

When the restaurant was put back to rights, I got my bike and walked it through the kitchen.

"Is your boyfriend picking you up tonight?" Jose asked jovially, glancing up from the pot of beans he was stirring.

"He's not my boyfriend and Mrs. Carpenter is picking me up."

"Be safe, Magdalena," Naalyehe said.

"I will," I promised.

Mrs. Carpenter was thrilled by my desire to play games every day. "I miss Bridger, even miss Katie sometimes," she said, laying her Scrabble tile onto the board. "But there's nothing like spending time with you, Maggie Mae. Just the two of us. And you're getting so good at Scrabble, you might be able to give me a run for my money before Bridger comes back."

On Thursday afternoon, I went to the park an hour before I was scheduled to work and watched the guys play Ultimate. Deep down I hoped Bridger would be there. He wasn't. Walt seemed happy enough to see me and said if they were ever short a player he'd put me in.

It was miserable, having Bridger suddenly removed from my life. I wondered, at times, if his presence had been a really great dream and I'd just now woken up to reality.

But then I'd think of Kat's icy blue eyes watching me, or take one look at the clothes crammed into my closet, hardly worn name-brand clothes, and knew he was for real. Plus, I couldn't have dreamed up that kiss.

I missed him so thoroughly that any time I saw a tall, dark-haired man in the grocery store, at the park, or in the restaurant, my heart would jump to life as I strained to glimpse his face. Living in a city populated with Hispanic and Navajo men, my heart was fluttering on a very regular basis.

Though the Navajo guys I'd played Ultimate with started coming into the Navajo Mexican every day for lunch, I never saw Bridger.

Since I had discovered what life was like with a friend, life without one felt even lonelier, as if Bridger had increased the depth of loneliness I was capable of experiencing. It sucked big time. I felt as if the best part of me was missing.

27.

I could feel the pull of the full moon when I rolled out of bed. Shash looked at me and whined.

"I've got to make Mrs. Carpenter breakfast," I said. He wagged his tail and spread out in my bed.

It was Monday and I was scheduled to work both the lunch and dinner shifts. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt and took a deep breath before I could stop myself.

"Is his smell ever going to wash out of my clothes?" I asked. The dog opened a bleary eye and peered at me.

Ten agonizingly slow days had pa.s.sed since the morning Bridger and I kissed. Every time Mrs. Carpenter's phone rang, my heart went ballistic. But when I answered, Bridger's voice was never on the other end of the line. I'd been tempted to call him just to hear his voice, but didn't. If he wanted to talk, he'd be calling me.

I made Mrs. Carpenter's bed and then cooked oatmeal and boiled eggs for breakfast. She'd told me several times that I didn't need to take care of her anymore, that she was feeling great. But being with her and doing things for her chased away some of my loneliness.

I stood over the sink, cracking a hard-boiled egg beneath cold running water, when I heard her cane thump into the kitchen.

"Is Bridger back yet?" she asked, as if maybe she missed him as much as I did.

"Um. He's still gone. But he should be back any day." I couldn't meet her eyes, just stared at the half-peeled egg and wished my fingers would stop shaking. Would he be back? No one ever came back into my life once they'd left it.

"I don't need a ride tonight," I said, scooping oatmeal into a bowl.

Her eyes narrowed. "And why is that? Tonight is the full moon."

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to shift and explore the countryside."

"Do you think that's wise?" Mrs. Carpenter asked. "What if the wolves are out? Or the wild dogs?"

"I'll go somewhere far away. Like the old mine. It seems like a safe place."

Mrs. Carpenter barked a laugh. "The old mine? Safe? That thing is a disaster waiting to happen! What if you fall into a mine shaft?"

"I can see in the dark. I won't fall," I said.

"You let me know the minute you get home! And just to warn you, some of the Quilting Bee ladies are coming over tonight, so don't come knocking in your birthday suit!"

I laughed. "All right."

"Do you want me to drive you to work?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but walking clears my head. And it's a nice day."

"Suit yourself."

As I shut the front door, I wondered at the dread curling in my stomach. Surely the mine would be safe-I was just overreacting to Mrs. Carpenter's concern.

A thick layer of clouds hid the late morning sun, making the air thick and heavy. Overhead, the golden eagle circled, its feathers a dark reminder that I needed protection. I shivered and kept glancing up as I walked to work. The bird stayed overhead, always circling.

On the emptiest stretch of road, the mile-long expanse with no houses and hardly any cars, the hair on the back of my neck started to p.r.i.c.kle. I stopped walking and tilted my head to the side, listening. The air was still. No swishing leaves, no droning bees. Not even a bird chirping.

I resumed my steady pace, but before I'd taken three steps, I paused, peering into the spa.r.s.e woods that framed the roadside. I'd heard something-a stick cracking, or dry weeds rustling, the noise a snake makes as it slithers through the underbrush. For a long moment I stared into the woods, holding my breath. Maybe I should have ridden the bike, I thought, wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. I faced forward again and made myself walk.

Not ten steps later, I heard the rustling yet again. This time, though, it was on the far side of the road. I had the eerie feeling that if I started running, I'd be chased. I walked as fast as I could, trying to ignore the instinct to bolt.

But then I heard it again.

I stopped dead and slowly turned, peering into the wild, scraggly underbrush hugging the edge of the road where the noise had come from-from right beside me-so close I could have reached out and touched the source of that sound. I tried to quiet my ragged breathing, for I couldn't hear anything over my own noise. I couldn't see anything in the weeds, yet I knew I was being followed. Every cell in my body was screaming a warning.

As slow as I could manage, I crouched down and peered into the underbrush. Rocks and dry soil littered the ground beneath shrubby green-and-brown plants loaded with thorns. Cactus plants spotted the dirt in places, little tiny things hardly bigger than my palm, and a little ways back, pines shadowed the weeds. My human eyes saw nothing, my human nose smelled nothing out of place, but I heard the rustling again, now right in front of me.

A flash of movement caught the corner of my eye, something darting out of the underbrush. I made the mistake of turning to see what it was. And that was when the bushes in front of me exploded.

A bird shrieked and a snarling, snapping weight hit me, knocking me to my back. I threw my hands in front of my face and grappled with fur and paws, trying to get a look at the animal attacking me. It wasn't that big, just a scrawny coyote, but it was smart and it was fast. Yellow teeth snapped at my nose just as I thrust my arm in the way. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the teeth to sink into my flesh. When they barely grazed the skin, I opened my eyes.

The coyote lunged away, pushing off from my stomach with its hind legs. The piercing screech of a bird echoed as a dark ma.s.s pa.s.sed over me, so close that its giant wings fanned a gust of dusty air into my face.

I rolled to my stomach just in time to see the eagle clutch the coyote in its long, sharp talons. The bird of prey held the animal for a heartbeat and flapped its giant wings before dropping it. The coyote thumped against the pavement and yelped. It got to its feet and started to run, but the eagle dove in again.

I didn't see more, for a ma.s.s of coyotes seemed to appear out of nowhere, standing up in gra.s.s only a few inches tall, or walking out from behind a tree trunk no wider than my wrist. They yelped and howled and started running frantically, clumsily, in the opposite direction of the bird-away from me. Two glossy golden animals burst out of the underbrush on the other side of the road, two muscular cougars. They sprinted past me, flush on the heels of the coyote pack.

I jumped to my feet and ran, making it to the restaurant long before my shift was scheduled to start.

It didn't hit me until I stood outside the restaurant trying to catch my breath, my back pressed against the brick building. Naalyehe had been wrong. The eagle wasn't a symbol of protection-not for me anyway. It had been tracking a pack of coyotes. That made me wonder how long the pack had been around, because, looking back, I had seen that eagle every single time I went to work for the past week.

But why would a pack of coyotes be following me?

28.

The mood at Jose's was tense. Business had been good-so good, we were low on refried beans, and what self-respecting Navajo Mexican restaurant doesn't have refried beans?

Once again, the restaurant was packed with tourists. This time, instead of cowboy boots and hats, they all had on similar chokers, three strands of turquoise beads fitted snugly around their necks.

The restaurant was so busy with tourists that I did not get my customary two-hour lunch break-I worked straight through lunch and right into dinner. To make up for it, Naalyehe gave me a plate of steaming blue corn and beef enchiladas-minus the refried beans-and let me eat it in the kitchen.

Customers came and went, some of them familiar, most of them not. Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe the stress of the full moon was making me paranoid, but it seemed like the tourists patronizing the restaurant today were paying special attention to me. They watched my every move, trying to make small talk, asking where I was from, how old I was, what my last name was. Maybe I was so lonely for male attention I was imagining it or making more of their lingering glances and small talk than I should. But it wasn't only the men. The women were staring, too.

I shook it off and went about my business, concentrating on not messing up orders or spilling anything.

And then Yana pulled me aside.

"Dude. What's going on with you? Do you know any of these people?"

"No. Why?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

"They keep staring at you and asking me questions, like how old you are and where you're from," Yana explained. "I thought it was just one of my tables at first, thought maybe the guy was going to ask for your number, even though he was totally too old. But then I noticed it's more than just him. It's everyone."

As I glanced around the restaurant, at all the eyes staring at me, the air seemed too heavy to breathe. It's the lingering fear of the coyote incident, I told myself.

"Are you okay?" Yana asked. "You're really pale. Paler than usual, even."

"Totally fine," I lied, wiping my sweaty palms on my ap.r.o.n.

"Did you notice their chokers?" She nodded to the nearest table of tourists.

"Yeah. What are they?"

"Heishe beads. Have you ever heard of them?"

I shook my head, studying the strands of turquoise on the closest customer.

"I don't know why all these white guys are wearing them, but the Navajo wear them for one of two reasons. Either to prove they are telling the truth-if they lie the choker strangles them. Or"-her voice dropped to a whisper-"they wear it to keep a secret. If a witch gets caught, his heishe chokes him before he can name others like him."

"Witch?" I asked, studying Yana to see if she was teasing me.

She glared at me. "Not so loud!" she hissed. "Forget I said that. Let me know if anyone gives you c.r.a.p or anything, and I'll kick his b.u.t.t." She strode off.

"Excuse me!" a woman called, waving her hand at me. I forced half a smile to my face. She wasn't a tourist, but a little old lady that ate at the restaurant every Monday night.

"Yes, ma'am?" She always ate alone. I a.s.sumed she was a widow.

"I ordered coffee with my flan, but Penney must have forgotten to bring it out," she said, patting my wrist with her cool, frail hand.

"Coming right up, ma'am," I told her, glad that fate hadn't destined me to wait on her. She was nice, I'll give her that, but she tipped only fifty cents, two shiny quarters, every single time. I suppose in her day fifty cents was probably a generous tip.

I hurried toward the kitchen when the bell over the front door rang. I'd get the coffee after I seated the latest customers. Turning to the door, I froze.

Hovering in the doorway was the one person I thought I'd never see again. I looked around the dining room, hoping Yana or Penney would decide to seat the latest customers, because I wasn't sure if I should.

But then she smiled, a soft, shy smile. I took a deep breath and walked to the front of the restaurant.

"Hi. Table for three?" I asked.

"Yes, please."

I walked toward the only empty booth and wondered if a knife was going to be thrust into my back. One glance over my shoulder told me how absurd that was. Danni Williams could hardly walk.

When we reached the empty booth, her parents sat. But Danni put a chilly hand on my elbow and leaned in close.

"Being on the brink of death makes a girl think." She glanced at her parents. Her mom held a grocery bag out to her and smiled at me. "I'm sorry about school, what I did," she said. She took the bag from her mom and pressed it into my hands. "It's another jacket, same as yours minus the bloodstains and being cut in two."

"Wow. Thanks." I took the bag from her scarred hand.

"And Bridger's sc.u.m," she said, venom in her voice. That came out of nowhere.

"Sc.u.m? Didn't he save you that night?" I asked, utterly confused.

She frowned. "What night? Save me from what?"

"The, uh"-I lowered my voice-"really big dogs?"

She studied me like I was crazy. "You mean the night I got attacked at your house?"

I nodded.

"Bridger wasn't there. He was at graduation. Or maybe he was out with his French girlfriend. I mean, I'd always heard the rumors about her, but-" She shrugged and sat down beside her mom.

I frowned.