Then, without waiting, he said, “I’m Coyote. You’re Anna.”

“You are he,” she agreed. “And I certainly am.”

“I could come,” Coyote said, “because you put right what was wrong here. And because I didn’t want to have to deal with the Singer. That is two ‘becauses.’ I will answer two questions. One for you.” He looked at Anna. “And one for you. You were here first. Ask your question.”

To his surprise, Charles did have something he wanted to know.

“Mercy is a walker,” Charles said.

“Ah, excellent question,” said Coyote, even though it hadn’t been a question at all. “Yes. We have children so they can go out and do our will. They walk in the world, messengers and … What’s that word? Ah, yes, henchmen. And henchwomen, of course. My walkers tend to be disobedient and more effective than other walkers.” He preened, then raised his eyebrows at Charles, inviting him to speak again.

Charles decided they might get further if he waited for Coyote to tell them what Coyote wanted to tell them.

“You talk like words cost money,” Coyote observed sourly when Charles didn’t speak. “Wolf is like that, too.”

“What happens to your children if one of you die?” asked Anna suddenly.

Coyote gave her a surprisingly sweet smile. “That’s the right question, even if it’s the one Charles is supposed to ask. My death would not kill my children.” He looked coy. “I’ve tried that. But the Singer had not yet Become. He wasn’t quite like me. He required Zander—or some other living man—to even get women pregnant. When he died, the life force in those children he fathered on mortal women died, too.”

“All of them?” Charles asked.

Coyote gave him a narrow look. “You are pushing the extent of your one question with all of your questions.”

Anna started to speak and Coyote waved a finger. “Uh-uh. Not yet. You have a different question you want to ask.” He looked at Charles and sighed. For the first time, Coyote looked truly serious. “I want you to know this, so it can still be part of your question. None of the children the witches bear will survive. Your Dr. Connors miscarried about an hour ago.”

Charles nodded slowly. He could not be sorry. He should not be sorry.

“Walkers reflect some of the aspects of their parentage,” Coyote said. “Wolf’s children are fierce—and not too bright, for instance.” He gave Charles a smile that showed his teeth. When Charles did not react, Coyote heaved a sigh. “You really are not any fun at all, are you? Fine. Zander reflected the Singer’s aspects—I cannot find it in me to feel bad that there will be no more of his walkers in our world.”

Anna nodded.

“You have a question?” Coyote asked.

“I’ve seen too many horror films,” she said. “Is the Singer dead?”