By C.E. Murphy
A lot of the town cannot get up. And extra are slumbering off on a daily basis. rather than strong forces storming Seattle, a extra insidious invasion is occurring. such a lot of Joanne Walker's fellow police officers are down with the blue flu—or fairly the blue sleep. but there isn't any actual reason a person can aspect to—and it retains spreading. It should be magical, Joanne figures. yet what is up with the loopy desires that hit her whenever she closes her eyes? Are they being despatched by means of Coyote, her still-missing spirit advisor? The messages simply are usually not transparent. by some means Joanne has to get up her drowsing neighbors whereas holding these nonetheless unsleeping, work out her inner-spirit dream existence and, yeah, come to phrases with those different desires she's having approximately her boss….
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Additional resources for Coyote Dreams
Mark did a double‐take at my feet when he realized I stood as tall as he did, then developed a slow, astonished smile that made me self‐conscious and pleased all at once. Phoebe looked insufferably smug. ” Her grin was bright, and Mark laughed. ” I left the apartment with Mark, feeling somehow like I was walking half an inch in the air. Morrison couldn’t, but a blind man could. She’s a 1969 Boss 302. Mark made a face at me and I laughed out loud again. I wanted one of my very own. “No, thanks,” I said.
I was very nearly asleep when the phone rang. m. I fell out of bed and grabbed for the phone on the way to the floor, fumbling the receiver and putting it to my ear with shaking hands. ” he asked again. Can you help us? ” Robert was nearly twelve, the quaver in his voice swallowed down in an attempt at adult bravery, but Mommy and Daddy went a long way toward telling me just how scared he was. ” I pulled clothes on as I talked, exhaustion burning my eyes. I’ll be right there,” I promised again, and hit the door at a run.
I’d barely gotten them grease‐stained. ” Phoebe turned a very bright grin on Mark and grabbed my upper arm as solidly as she’d taken Mark’s. ” “I, uh,” I managed one more time, and Phoebe dragged me off to my apartment. ” She shed her denim jacket as she spoke, revealing worn hip‐hugging jeans and a black sleeveless spandex shirt that said “Hottie” in rhinestones across her breasts. ” That was easier than trying to answer any of her zillions of questions. My brain didn’t seem to have quite woken up yet.