Chapter One #2
“Sit down. You must be thirsty from your drive,” his mother said, already moving to the fridge to fetch a pitcher of sweet, iced tea she had undoubtedly prepared earlier that day.
The refrigerator was rarely without a chilled pitcher of it, but Toby had never been overly keen on it.
However, he had never had the heart to tell his mother that, not wanting to hurt her feelings because she took such pride in it.
He took a seat at the kitchen table, glancing around the room filled with photographs and souvenirs from his parents’ travels.
His mother set the tea in front of him, and the clink of the ice in the glass seemed soothing in the quiet of the kitchen.
He lifted the glass and took a small sip, fighting the urge to grimace, and when he chanced a glance at his father, the man’s lips were pressed tightly together as if he was fighting the urge to laugh.
Toby drew his eyebrows together in a silent scowl and warning for him to keep quiet.
His father was well aware of his dislike of the sickly-sweet beverage.
“Now, tell us everything. How have you been?” his mother asked.
Toby shared a few titbits about his life, skimming over the more dangerous aspects of his job, before steering the conversation towards the reason for his visit.
“So, about this trouble you mentioned over the phone...” he prompted.
His father sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, about that.” His voice carried a weight of disappointment. “You remember we’ve always had a passion for collecting artifacts from our travels.”
Toby nodded. He couldn’t have missed their passion it he’d tried. Most of his memories of growing up were dotted with his parents’ treasures.
“Well, we had this fellow working for us at the gallery in Austin and he seemed to share the same interest, said he liked to collect things, too. He had a keen eye for rare pieces.”
“Turns out his eye was a bit too keen, if you catch my meaning,” His mother chimed in, a rare angry crease appearing on her forehead. “He seemed especially interested in the pieces we keep here, at the house.”
His father shrugged. “We didn’t think anything of it, so, we invited him over to show him our collection. I suppose we were hoping to mentor him, maybe spark a genuine interest in anthropology, but after he left, we noticed that the Cryptex was missing.”
“The Cryptex,” Toby echoed, his stomach hollowing. He recognized the term from his parents’ many stories. It was a cylindrical lockbox, said to contain a map of some sort. A piece that had been in their family for generations. “Not by any chance some other Cryptex?”
His mother shook her head, her lips pressed together in a tight, angry line. The family’s Cryptex was extremely rare, supposed to lead to some fabled treasure that likely didn’t exist. But its real value was its history, its connection to the family’s ancestors.
His father nodded solemnly. “We believe he took it, Toby. Can’t prove it, of course, but it was here when he visited and now it’s gone, and he’s vanished. He didn’t turn up to work the next day.”
“Which makes us think he’s a treasure hunter who targeted us from the beginning,” his mother added. “I mean, most of the people we’ve worked with know of our passion for collecting such objects. It wouldn’t have been too difficult for him to have learned about some of the items we keep here.”
Toby sipped his tea, the sweetness belying the bitter situation. “I’ll find him, and the Cryptex,” he promised, setting his glass down with determined finality.
His parents exchanged worried glances, but Toby’s resolve was clear. This wasn’t just about retrieving an artifact. It was about honoring his family’s legacy.
“Thank you, son. Just be careful, okay?” his mother said, her concern for his well-being evident in the soft creases on her forehead.
“I always am,” Toby replied with a reassuring smile, though the truth was, in his line of work, danger was never far behind.
“Jack wasn’t much for chattin’, but he let slip once about his sister Harper’s coffee shop in Fort Worth,” Toby’s mom said. “We reckon it’s about the best place to start.”
“It will be,” Toby nodded, already plotting his next move. “I’ll head out now, do a bit of recon.”
Yes! Find him and kill him!
“For the last time, we’re not killing anybody!” Toby grumbled out loud.
His father chuckled. “Your coyote baying for blood, is he?”
“Isn’t he always,” Toby said with a roll of his eyes.
His father’s amused expression cleared as he glanced out the window. The sun had just finished setting and evening had already drawn in.
“The place’ll be closed by the time you get there. There’ll be nothing to see. How ‘bout you join me for a run instead? Might do you some good. You can head out at first light.”
Yes, run! Run now!
Toby had to admit that the idea of shifting and running with his dad in coyote form was highly appealing. It would be a chance to clear his head let his coyote stretch his legs before they continued on their journey.
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.
Yes, run!
He and his dad got to their feet.
“You coming, Mom?” Toby asked.
His mother shook her head. “No, you two boys go on ahead. I want to get a start on cooking dinner. I’ll have it ready for you by the time you get back.”
Toby sighed but knew there was no use in arguing with her.
He leaned down then kissed his mom on the forehead before he and his dad headed out the back door.
It was something they’d done dozens of times together in the past, and if Toby was being honest with himself, he’d missed it.
He didn’t get back to see his parents nearly as often as he would have liked. He’d have to go about changing that.
Later, after the rejuvenating run in their coyote forms, a silent, shared experience that only strengthened their bond, Toby spent the evening catching up more with his parents.
They didn’t talk much about the theft. They’d already told him all they knew and there was no point in rehashing the same details.
Instead, they shared a peaceful night, filled with the comfort of good food and even better conversation.
After dinner, Toby sat back and let his parents regale him with details of their latest trip to central America.
Retiring to his old room, Toby found sleep easily, and the day’s events swirled into dreams of maps and mysteries that awaited him in Fort Worth.
Morning came quickly, and after a hearty breakfast, Toby headed out to his truck, ready for the journey ahead.
His parents stood on the porch, watching him with a mix of pride and concern.
In his hand Toby carried a printout of an image of Jack that his father had taken from the security footage inside their art gallery.
It wasn’t the clearest of photographs, but it was good enough for Toby to be able to identify the man at a quick glance.
“Be careful, Toby!” his mother shouted after him, her voice thick with emotion. “And call us, ya hear?”
“I will, Mom, and I’ll bring it back,” he promised, offering them a reassuring smile.
With a final wave, he climbed into his truck and set off for Fort Worth, the early sun casting long shadows behind him.
A few hours later, Toby sat in his truck which was parked across the street from the coffee shop his parents had told him about.
He’d been sitting there for a couple of hours already, watching the crowd that came and went.
The warm glow of light from the windows of the coffee shop spilled onto the sidewalk through large front windows.
So far, there was no sign of Toby’s target.
Inside, the bustle of late morning coffee seekers moved in a comfortable rhythm.
Toby scanned the customers and staff, his gaze landing yet again on the woman behind the counter.
She was breathtaking. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat, practical ponytail.
A few loose strands framed her face as she laughed at something a customer said to her.
Could she be Jack’s sister? Harper. It had to be her.
She was holding down the fort on her own and it had been a busy morning.
No one without a vested interest in the business would put up with that amount of work on their own.
Toby watched the woman move around the space with an easy grace, wondering if she knew what her brother had done.
Compelled by a mix of duty and curiosity, Toby decided it was time to go in and talk to her.
He rehearsed what he would say as he crossed the street, planning to play the role of a friend of her brother’s who was just passing through town and hoping to reconnect.
It seemed straightforward enough. But as Toby pushed open the door, and the gentle chime announced his entrance, an unexpected sensation washed over him.
The scent hit him first, a mixture of coffee beans, vanilla, and something else, something inexplicably familiar and utterly intoxicating. Her scent.
What’s that smell? his coyote murmured in his mind, rousing instantly from its quiet slumber.
As Toby drew nearer, the cacophony of the coffee shop seemed to fade into the background, and his entire being honed in on the woman behind the counter.
The world around him narrowed to the space between them, every detail of her face becoming impossibly clear. The gentle curve of her cheek, the light in her eyes, the easy smile she offered to everyone she served, it all hit Toby with the force of a thunderbolt.
Mate! Mate! his coyote chimed excitedly, coming to the realization almost at the same time as Toby did, but the truth of it was undeniable.
This was her. His mate. The woman fate had chosen to be his for all time.
The concept seemed ludicrous. Impossible.
Toby was prepared to face a thief, to recover a stolen artifact.
He was not prepared for this seismic shift in his very foundation.
Toby had heard tales of shifters recognizing their mates instantly, through scent, and sight, or some indescribable sense.
He had always taken those stories with a grain of skepticism.
Yet here he was, rooted to the spot, struck by an overwhelming sense of awe, wonder, and disbelief all vying for dominance in his mind.
Go to her! Claim her! his coyote yipped in his mind.
A mate. It was the last thing he’d wanted.
But something unfurled inside him as he stared at her, utterly enraptured by her easy movements and soft smile.
Something joyful. Because what if…what if meeting his mate wasn’t something to dread?
What if he’d had it all wrong? If yes, meeting her meant change, but change could be a good thing?
He didn’t know the answers to those questions, but he knew he had to get closed. Talk to her. Know her.
Some ancient, primal part of him, the coyote spirit that was so integral to his being, recognized her. Accepted her. Wanted her.
Yes, mate! Mine!
Toby stood there, caught in the storm of his emotions, unable to move forward or step back.
The noise in the shop, the scent of coffee, and the warmth of the morning sun—all of it faded into the background, leaving only her in sharp focus.
His heart hammered in his chest, each beat a reminder of the monumental change that had just occurred in his life.
Before he could take another step, before he could speak or even attempt to bridge the distance between them, she glanced his way. Her eyes widened and her lips parted leaving Toby suspended in the moment of discovery, the world around him forever altered.