"Wh-what?" Ash said.
The man lunged. He tried to grab me in a choke hold. I twisted out of his grip. Panic shot through me like wildfire, consuming all thought.
I was cornered. I had to fight back. Attack the threat. End the threat. Eliminate the threat.
When he came at me again, I felt my back legs bunching. Heard myself snarl. Felt my lips curl back, fangs flashing. It was like I was outside my body, watching it prepare for attack. Prepare for the kill.
"Bill, stop!" The woman's shrill voice knifed through my skull.
"No way. I'll teach this mangy cat to respect humans--"
Ash grabbed the guy by the jacket and yanked him so hard he stumbled. But he wrenched free and came at me again. That split-second interruption was all it took for my human brain to snap back to life and when he rushed me, I took a swipe at him. It was a good swipe--with a paw the size of a lunch plate--but my claws were retracted and I didn't plan to make contact. Still, it was enough. He saw that swat coming and he jumped back. Ash caught him by the collar and heaved him out of the way as I squeezed under the SUV.
"I'm calling 911," the woman babbled. "I don't care what you say. I'm calling."
I lay under the big vehicle. It was a tight fit and I was flattened against the pavement, ears smashed against my head. The woman reached the dispatcher before Ash could get to her.
"There," she said. "The police will come and shoot it."
"Hell, no," her husband said. "I've got my rifle from last weekend. I should have remembered that earlier. Forget a photo. I'll get a real trophy."
The man opened the hatch of his SUV--the one right over my head.
"You're going to shoot her?" Ash said, his voice wavering, as if he was struggling to stay calm and reasonable. "Do you know how much trouble you'll get in? They're an endangered species."
"Not in BC they're not." He rummaged through the back of his truck. "I'm a hunter, boy. I know what's what, and this beast just attacked me--I hope you got a picture of that, Sue. I'm within my rights to shoot it."
"In a parking garage? After your wife called 911?"
"Couldn't be helped." A rifle case clicked. "It went after her, too. Right, Sue?"
His wife said nothing.
"Huh," the man said. "Looks like I forgot to unload it. We're all set, then. I'll just--"
I heard Ash let out a snarl and watched his running feet disappear as he jumped the guy. The man fell back. Ash took him down as the woman screamed. Ash leaped to his feet first. He kicked the man, hard enough to make him wail. Then he kicked him again.
"Run, Maya!" Ash shouted.
I was already squeezing out the other side of the SUV. I raced into the lane and heard a rumble. I looked over to see headlights, so bright they blinded me. Tires squealed. Someone shouted. I saw the man lying on the ground, his wife running to the car, shrieking and sobbing. There was no sign of Ash.
"Run!"
Ash tore from between the SUVs, my clothes bundled under his arm. "Run!" he yelled again.
I roared up the ramp, Ash behind me. As I rounded the corner to the exit, headlights blinded me again and I dived to the side. The wrong side. I was pinned against a wall near the exit, trapped between it and a car. A police car.
SEVENTEEN
"OH, YEAH," SAID THE officer in the passenger seat as he lowered his window. "That's a cougar."
His partner swore and stopped the car. I could see Ash on the other side, tucked behind a pillar, his gaze darting from the cruiser to me.
The passenger door opened.
"Hey!" his partner called. "Don't do that!"
Ash stepped from his hiding spot and waved for me to get out of the building. I tore through the exit and nearly mowed down two girls in miniskirts. The police siren echoed their screams as the officers shouted at Ash and the girls to take cover.
I barreled past the girls and raced along the sidewalk, only to see a whole crowd of college kids pouring from a bar. I veered onto the road. I didn't stop to look. I didn't think to. I saw all those people and my brain sent me flying the other way--right into traffic.
Brakes squealed. Horns honked. People shouted. A crash behind me as cars collided. I kept running, swerving around them, tearing down the middle of the street as drivers stopped and gaped and pulled out cell phones.
Another siren joined the first. Then a third. The sounds snapped me back and I raced to the opposite sidewalk, pedestrians flying like bowling pins as they scattered out of my way.
"Maya!" Ash shouted behind me. "You need to get--"
I veered down the first gap between buildings. An alleyway. I raced along it until I passed a row of recycling bins outside a doorway. I tucked myself between the bins and was standing there, flanks heaving, when Ash caught up.
I looked up at him.
"Yeah, that's what I meant. Take cover." He peered up and down the alley. "This looks good. Just stay where you are." Another look. "And tuck in your tail."
I pulled it in and sat, my sides still heaving as my heart rate slowed.
Ash crouched beside me. "You okay?"
I dipped my muzzle in a nod.
"Scary, huh?" He said the words awkwardly, like it wasn't something he was accustomed to admitting.
I dipped my head again.
He hunkered down, getting more comfortable. "I think we did okay. Best we could, under the circumstances. Just . . . a string of bad luck."
I chuffed.
"I shouldn't have gone after that kid," he said. "I should have listened to you. Ignored it. But . . ." He rolled his shoulders. "Sometimes I can't." He looked down the alley. "Most times I can't."
It's not easy. There are all kinds of racism--from that frat-boy ugliness down to the kind of stereotyping and misconceptions where people don't even seem to realize they're doing or saying anything offensive. I had been lucky growing up in Salmon Creek. The way we were raised, I didn't even feel different. I was just one of the kids. My parents were just a normal couple. I think I was ten before I even heard the term interracial marriage.
Even when I encountered racism outside Salmon Creek, it usually rolled off me. The worst of it often came from rednecks whipping past in rusted pickups. I looked at them and I looked at me--class leader, track star, straight-A student--and their slurs about dirty Indians and drunk Indians and dumb Indians were laughable.
Mom says crap like that comes from people who've accomplished so little in life that they feel the need to lift themselves above someone, anyone. So they pick skin color or religion or sexual orientation and say, "Well, I might not be much, but at least I'm not a . . ." I'd look at those guys, and see the truth of her words. Even with the frat boys, I knew I was their equal. In a couple of years, I could be sitting in class beside them.
But it was different for Ash. He certainly seemed smart, but from the way he talked, he hadn't spent much time in school. If I asked about college, I'm sure he'd make some crack about having to decide between Harvard and Yale. That wasn't in his future. Nor were athletic trophies and community awards and academic scholarships. He'd look at the rednecks in the rust-bucket pickups and say, "At least they have a truck."
I wished I could talk to him about that. I couldn't. Not now, obviously, and probably not even when I'd shifted back to human form. It wouldn't be a topic he'd discuss. Not with me. Probably not with anyone.
We waited. I could still hear sirens and shouting. At one point, a couple of cops looked down our alley, but it was only a cursory glance.
"When you're ready, we'll get in farther."
I chuffed. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that--all I needed was to shift back and we could walk out.
When a familiar scent wafted down the alley, I bristled. Ash noticed and looked over.
"You hear something?"
I shook my head and lifted my nose to make a show of sniffing the air.
"You smell someone. Daniel?" A split-second pause. "No, you'd be a lot more excited if it was him. So it must be . . ." He cu
rsed. "Someone from the Cabals?"
I nodded.
"I'd ask who, but I don't think you can manage charades. Doesn't matter anyway. If they're here--"
Words drifted in from the street, seeming to rise above the others. "--dark patch on her flank."
We both heard it and went still, straining to pick that one voice from the chaos.
"Yes, that's her," the voice said. "Juvenile female with that distinctive dark patch. She escaped earlier today. I notified animal control. They said they'd pass on the message to the city."
"We never got it," a woman's voice said.
"My apologies, then. We aren't local, and we were uncertain of proper protocol. We'll deal with that later. She needs to be found promptly and handled with care. She's a very valuable research subject. It's critical that we get her back safe and sound."
"I'm a lot more concerned about the safety of our citizens."
"You needn't be. That man said she attacked him, but you don't escape a cougar attack without a bite. You usually don't escape alive. She's accustomed to people and poses no danger to anyone except herself. My men have tranquilizer guns, as do the animal control officers. We need help locating her, but we can take it from there."
Ash looked over at me. "Is that . . . him?"
I nodded. It was Antone. I thought of how fast they must have heard the news of a loose cougar and how fast they'd mobilized. Not to mention how easily they seem to have convinced the authorities to let them take point on this operation. They were insanely organized. Insanely experienced. Insanely well funded. How could teenagers hope to outwit them?
I closed my eyes and slowed my pounding heart. We'd done it so far.
At what cost? How many are left? Maybe just you and your brother.
I kept breathing, struggling for calm. I could do this. I had to do this.
"We need to head out," Ash said. "Down the back way."
I nodded and took one last sniff. Antone's scent was gone. I must have caught it as he'd walked near the alley mouth, but he'd passed now, and even his voice had faded.
As I crept out, Ash stayed by the recycling bins, watching down the way we'd come. Guarding me again. I appreciated that. I'd have to tell him so when I could--and once I could figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn't embarrass him.
"All clear," he whispered. "Now go, go, go!"
He jogged along behind me and nearly smashed into my hindquarters as I leaned to peer around the corner. When I backed up, he said, "What?" then looked for himself.
There was nowhere to go. The alley was really just a walkway for the adjoining businesses. It went around to a rear door, then stopped at a fence. Beyond the fence were more walls.
I considered. Then I rounded the corner and hunkered down. The alley was bounded by two buildings and a two-meter solid fence. While I didn't like the feeling of being cornered, if anyone approached, I'd have time to get over that wall. It was wood and I had sixteen razor-sharp climbing spikes permanently attached to my feet. Ash, however . . .
When he followed, I nudged him back. I used my head and then my paw to gesture around the corner. He didn't get it.
I head-gestured for him to go back to the street, then I pantomimed climbing the wall. He understood then. I think. But he refused to leave. Just told me to lie down and be quiet and no one was going to come back here. Wait until I shifted and we'd sneak out together.
So we waited. After about ten minutes, I heard a woman's voice say, "I'm picking up a presence back there."
"Probably homeless guy number four." Moreno. "Look, we know she's with her brother, so you need to detect two bodies. She's probably shifted back by now and they're long gone."
I waited, tensed, hoping they'd decide Moreno was right. I was guessing the witch only detected one form because we were huddled together. I inched closer to Ash.
Footsteps started down the alley.
"Does anyone listen to me?" Moreno said.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" Antone replied.
I leaped up. Ash started jogging toward the voices, his footfalls silent. I froze, panic filling me. But he only went a couple of meters, then turned around and ran at the wall.
I twisted, unsheathed my claws, and grabbed hold. As I scaled it, he took a running leap, grabbed the top and swung onto it with a gymnast's ease. Instead of going over, though, he crouched on the top, looking around. I scrambled up and perched awkwardly beside him.
On the other side of the fence was a tiny courtyard with a picnic table, a bicycle stand, and a tin half-filled with cigarette butts. A place for employees from a neighboring store to have a smoke and store their bikes. The only way out of there was a door into the shop. A solid metal door with no handle.
Ash wasn't looking at that, though. His gaze was turned upward, to a window on the building beside us.
"If we hide down there, she'll find us," he whispered. "We gotta go through the window. Can you make it?"
I nodded and cast an anxious glance at the alley. I could hear them coming slowly, checking behind every box and bin.
"I know," he whispered. "We need to move fast, especially since I have to bust that window to get in. They'll hear it."
I motioned for him to go. He jumped. He landed on the ledge easily enough, but it was only about ten centimeters of concrete, and he nearly lost his balance. He caught himself, turned his face away, and rammed his elbow into window, shattering the glass so expertly that I knew it wasn't his first break-in.
He looked back at me, still on the fence. I jerked my muzzle, telling him to go inside. He hesitated, but he didn't have a choice--I couldn't leap through with him blocking the hole. He quickly cleared the broken glass with his sleeve, then hopped down. It must have been a long jump because I heard him hit hard and let out an oomph. I listened for any sound of real pain. None came. When I was sure he was fine, I jumped off the fence--in the other direction.
As I tore down the alley, I thought I heard his voice. I flattened my ears and kept going. This was the only way. Otherwise, the moment they came around that corner, they'd know we were inside the shop and they'd surround the building. The witch only picked up one presence. If they saw me, they wouldn't go after him.
If I ran, he'd be safe. They'd never know he was there, and once I'd led them out of the alley, he could run. Maybe he'd try to find me afterward. Or maybe he'd finally realize the danger and decide it wasn't worth it--I wasn't worth it. I almost hoped he did, for his sake.
I whipped around the corner. I heard the witch cry out. I saw legs ahead of me, but I didn't look up, just kept running, ears down, eyes slitted, gaze fixed on the end of the alley. Get to the end. Barrel past them. Through them if I had to. Get to the road and let them chase me . . . while Ash escaped.
Antone leaped in front of me. I didn't look up to see his face, but his smell filled my nostrils. I hit him in the legs and he flipped up over my back. A dart whizzed past me. I hunkered lower, putting all my power into one last sprint. Behind me, I heard the witch say something. Words in another language. A spell? It didn't matter. I was almost to the street. Whatever she hit me with, however much it hurt, I'd just keep--
I stopped.
I just . . . stopped. My legs froze, like someone had disconnected the link to my brain. I skidded muzzle-first to the ground.
"Tranq her," the witch said. "I can't hold the binding spell for long."
My brain shouted orders. Jump up. Fight. Run. But my body just lay there, as if paralyzed, my eyes fixed open, staring at nothing. I felt a dart hit my flank. Then another. Antone said, "That's enough!" and the world went dark.
EIGHTEEN
I DREAMED I WAS sick with fever, my stomach cramping, sweat pouring off me. I was home in my own bed and Dad was sitting beside me, wiping my face with a cold cloth, saying nothing, just looking after me, as he'd done all of the rare times I was sick. Mom took care of me, too, but she did it by making soup and herbal tea and keeping my bedding fresh and dry and getting my m
edicine on time. She needed to keep busy. Dad was the one who'd just sit with me.
I wallowed in the dream even after I realized that's all it was. Slowly, though, I started waking and I felt the real burn of fever and the roil of nausea. Someone really was at my bedside, wiping my face. My first thought was "Daniel," and I opened my eyes, smiling, then saw Calvin Antone beside me. I scrambled back, hissing before I realized I was in human form. My stomach lurched and I retched. Antone grabbed a bowl from the floor and pushed it at me, but I shoved it away and sat up, clutching the sheets and looking around.
I was in a bed, dressed in a T-shirt and pajama pants. A man I didn't recognize stood just inside the door. He was wearing a suit, but he didn't look like security. He was too old, for one thing--at least fifty. And he held himself with an air that said he didn't take orders from anyone. He was tall--over six feet--with blond hair and bright blue eyes.
"Finally," he said. "Tell her I need her to answer some questions."
Antone glowered at him. "She speaks English."
"I'm sure she does. But she doesn't know me and I don't know her. I'm sure you can impress upon her the importance of answering."
"Is that a threat?" I said.
The man's blue eyes cooled. "I would suggest you modulate your tone with me, young lady."
"Because you're some important Cabal guy?"
"His name is Mattias Nast," Antone said. "He's the CEO's nephew."
Ash had told us that each Cabal was run by a family. The CEO and his sons were at the top, but a nephew would still have clout. Significant clout, judging by Antone's tone.
"I don't care who he is," I muttered. "I've got a good idea what he wants to know and the answer is 'go to hell.'"
The man's eyes chilled more. "Antone, you will tell your daughter--"
"I'm not his daughter. He's a sperm donor. My father is Rick Delaney."
Antone leaned closer. "I know you're angry, Maya, but you aren't making this easy."
"I don't want to make it easy. I know what you want to ask me--how to find Ash. I have no idea where he is or how to contact him. You don't believe me? Use magic or truth serum or whatever else you've got. The answer won't change."
I could tell by their expression that I'd been right about the question, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Ash had escaped. Good.