The Taste of Home

Chapter 6

Miguel arrived home to find Mr. Miller's son raising hell with the pack. Again.

The chupacabras stood around David in a ring of bristling spines and bloody scales as he kicked at the pile of coyote skins lying in a flea-infested heap at his father's feet. "All I'm saying is if these overgrown lizards actually did their jobs well, nobody would've gotten hurt."

Isabella hissed, baring her fangs. "They ambushed us. We would have been fine if you had helped."

"We have a lot of livestock to take care of. It's not our fault you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You have guns! Surely it can't be that hard to find a way for them to be useful."

"I can find one right now."

Mr. Miller grabbed David's hand before it could reach his holster. "That won't be necessary. Now, do me a favor and go call Dr. Wilkins. It shouldn't take her too long to get here."

"What do we care if those lizards got a couple—?"

"Now, David."

David stomped off to his father's house, knocking his shoulder into Miguel's side on the way. Miguel bit back a hiss as his bad leg threatened to make him lose his balance.

At just a couple inches over five feet and with less muscle than a chicken leg, David was even less intimidating than most twenty-one-year-olds. That was, unless he had his gun with him, which was almost always. His finger liked to fire off as much as his mouth, and the plentiful venison he brought home from his trips up north to visit his uncle spoke of his prowess. For better or worse, the only thing he'd shot that day was Miguel's nerves.

"Rough day in the pasture?" Miguel asked.

"Rougher for the coyotes than your folks, I reckon." Mr. Miller scooped up the coyote pelts, grimacing as specks of the slurry that used to be their innards dripped onto his shoes. "How was the restaurant? Less exciting, I hope."

"It was exciting alright, but in a good way."

Miguel expected the farmer to interrogate him, swear that he'd come crawling back before the end of January. Instead, he adjusted his grip on the coyotes' remains and said, "Dr. Wilkins should be here in 'bout half an hour so long as that old jeep of hers doesn't up and die on us. If nobody sees her by then, I'll swing on by and give her a lift."

With that, he left the pack to tend to their wounds. It had been a nasty scuffle, with so much blood covering some of Miguel's packmates he couldn't tell whether more of it was theirs or the coyotes'. Those who had not been on hunting duty crowded around the injured, cleaning wounds and offering shoulders to lean against.

José was one of them, gently leading his limping mother to the barn. Each step brought a faint whimper through her clenched teeth as she dragged her injured leg behind her, leaving a dark red trail running from where bone had broken through her skin.

Miguel's breath came in ragged gasps as phantom pain sank its teeth into his leg. So much pain. So much blood. Screaming.

But not his, not this time. He forced himself to take long, slow breaths. In and out. Safe and sound.

"Are you alright, hermanito?" Isabella's voice was hushed with exhaustion as her long, thin limbs quivered beneath her. The coyotes had gone for her neck this time, leaving some of her spines broken and a gash still oozing blood onto her collarbone.

Miguel forced himself to stand straighter. "I will be once you let me take care of you." He had to be for both of their sakes. The nightmares didn't come nearly as often now and he could usually stomach the stench of coyotes, but on days when that particular memory brushed against his consciousness, Isabella suffered at least as much as he did.

Only after she had personally examined each injured chupacabra did Isabella allow Miguel to press a strip of cloth against her neck.

Chupacabras were fast of limb and strong of fang, but endurance and brute strength were not among their gifts. That was why they lived and hunted in packs, despite Isabella's determination to provide for them with nothing but her own sheer stubbornness.

"I wish I'd been there," Miguel said as he firmly held the makeshift bandage in place. The cloth quickly turned crimson beneath his claws, filling his nose with an iron tang.

"I don't. I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from ripping that bad egg apart if he let you get hurt."

"I could have done something. Kept watch, distracted them..."

"But you didn't, and that's fine. You were... what is it the humans have you doing, exactly?" Her nostrils twitched. "Whatever it is smells interesting."

"Learned how to use a knife, started taking care of the live dishes, and helped clean up." The last of which hadn't been planned, but he'd be damned if he let the humans think he wasn't trying his hardest on his first day. His leg still ached from all the bending.

"Would it be alright for me to head out for a bit this Saturday?" he asked. "Alejandro invited me to dinner."

"Who?"

"He's one of the chefs. You met him the other day."

"Oh, him." Her claws twitched at the memory, cutting furrows into the dirt. "It's strange for him to want much to do with us after what happened."

"He said he wants to get to know me better." With Isabella's injuries as clean as they could get before Dr. Wilkins treated them, Miguel massaged his sore leg with a practiced hand. He'd still feel it tomorrow, but hopefully his muscles would get used to his new job before too long. "He seems friendly, and I'm pretty sure humans expect each other to meet up outside of work sometimes." That was his best guess, anyway. Why else would a human want to spend more time with him than necessary?

Isabella let out a long, slow breath. "Fine, but I don't want you to go alone."

He groaned. Bringing packmates with him would attract all sorts of attention, none of it good. "I was alone with him and the others all evening."

"No, you were right next to a room full of chupacabras that would not have taken kindly to him trying anything."

"We'll cause a fuss if a bunch of chupacabras set foot in a human restaurant." Miguel's spines twitched, rustling with agitation as he thought of how they'd react to even one chupacabra going inside. He'd be lucky if stares were the only things aimed at him.

But Alejandro was nice, and Ralph hadn't minded him too much. If they could tolerate him, maybe other humans would be willing to give him a chance, too.

"So they won't go inside," Isabella said. "I'll have them stay near the back, but I won't let you go without backup."

"Fair enough."

"Good. Now, I would love to hear all about your day, but I'd better go make sure everyone is ready for Dr. Wilkins. I swear if she tries to put that cone on anyone again, she'll be the one who needs bandages."