by Cathy Clamp
Then the moon eased against me, pushed away by an unseen force, until I was in a bubble of magic again, turning, changing until I was back in the accursed human shell once more.
“Whoa.” I blinked and stared down at the blood staining my hands and bare chest. “Man, I hate it when that happens.” I didn’t even want to think about the revulsion I felt. I’d killed a man before during another blind wolf moment, and I still have nightmares about it. Strange that a trained assassin would flinch at death, but there’s something that’s just . . . wrong with ripping out a throat with my teeth.
“Jesus f-ing Christ, Tony!” Will was staring at his arm, now whole again, but with more than a few teeth gouges that were slowly filling in as I watched. “How in the hell did you defeat my magic like that? I should be able to hold you like you were an insect.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath and held it until I could think my own thoughts again. “Power of the pack. You weren’t just holding me, you were trying to hold a dozen hungry wolves. I didn’t think I was attached to the Chicago group anymore, but apparently I was wrong. I’ll bet Nikoli is having an interesting day just about now, turning wolves back human.” I was betting I was still in central time zone, meaning it was also morning in Illinois.
Kerchee climbed down out of the tree slowly, keeping a close eye on me. I should probably find it weird that we were two guys naked in the jungle, but Brokeback Mountain this wasn’t. It was more locker room of the weird than any sort of turn-on. Will turned and started to put on his clothes and left me to find my spares from the pack that was now mostly ruined near the log where I first turned.
We quickly and silently picked up our weapons and returned to the task of tracking down the camp, which wasn’t too hard anymore, as much noise as they were making. The hard part was keeping to the undergrowth and staying quiet so the roving bands of troops didn’t spot us. I could smell them as snake a mile away, and they could likely smell us too, but the scent of Will’s blood was too strong, and it led them to where we’d been . . . not where we were going.
By the time we passed through a small stream where we washed off the blood and got to the edge of a rock outcropping near the camp, I’d returned fully to my mind. I’m glad that Kerchee didn’t feel the need to “talk” about what happened. I’m not good at apologies, and saying I told you so didn’t really seem appropriate either.
We couldn’t ask for better timing, because a helicopter arrived just as we did, scattering our scent in every direction. It must have made us seem a much bigger force than two, because everybody started sticking out their tongues and getting panicked looks. Snake-shifters stick out their tongues a lot to scent the air when there aren’t humans around. Even Bobby used to lick his lips so much he had to keep a tube of lip balm handy so they didn’t crack.
“Keep an eye out for where they might be holding Rayna.”
I glanced around at the canvas tents and corrugated metal shacks that wouldn’t do much more than provide limited protection from the weather and shook my head. “She’s a tiger, right? Well, unless she’s underground, or they’ve got a steel cage in one of the buildings, she’s not here. Nothing I’m seeing would hold me, much less an alpha cat.”
But then what before my wondering eyes did appear but a Sazi woman, surrounded by a bevy of creosote-scented men of all nationalities, pushing her toward the copter. I have no idea why snakes smell like creosote, but they do. The woman, on the other hand, had a definite “cat” smell. Yeah, just like the small ones when you walk into someone’s house, only bigger.
The bevy of men weren’t admirers, although the woman deserved a second look. I counted twenty, then thirty, armed soldiers. There’s a vast difference between a “guard” and a soldier. A lot of it is how they carry themselves, and their weapons. These guys looked both ready for action, and eager for it, from the way they were searching the jungle . . . but keeping to their posts. One thing I’ve learned about snakes, though—only a very few of the species are what they call day hunters. Those of the night-hunting variety have really shitty eyesight and hardly any nose. If the soldiers were sticking to the formula I’ve encountered before, they would be tasting the air for our location and feeling for a heat source. Good thing we were still wet from the river and in a shady spot.
I was expecting one woman prisoner, but the second one who was dragged out of the nearby tent took me by surprise—not only because she was there at all, but because of who she was.
“Um, wow. That’s not who I expected to see.”
“What in the hell is she doing here?” Will’s quiet voice held the same surprise as mine. But when Angelique Calibria, the über-tough, bitchy-as-hell representative of the raptors on the Sazi council, was abruptly slapped to the ground by another woman who got off the helicopter . . . and stayed there looking scared, Kerchee’s voice turned much more worried.
“I think we’re in some serious shit here.”
Chapter Two
A HINT OF movement caught the corner of my eye before it disappeared with lightning speed. But once I saw the flash of black-red fire, I knew what . . . and who was there. An ally, or I would already have fired a shot his way.
“So,” I whispered in a breath so low that only those standing closest to me would hear. “Do you know her?”
Will shook his head and answered in a similar low pitch. “Never seen her before. I wish the helicopter wasn’t blowing all the scents around so I could smell better.”
My brows raised, because I was a little surprised Will hadn’t noticed the new arrival. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Ahmad.”
It did my heart good to see how fast his head whipped around. Even the snake king himself raised a brow from where he now crouched behind us. “Perhaps your reputation is . . . partially deserved, agent.”
Ahmad al-Narmer—and no, I have no idea how he came about that name—is like his namesake, the king cobra. He’s slender, muscled, and very, very deadly. Even the bleed-over from his power was like crawling through stinging nettles. It both itched and hurt and you knew, just knew that if you touched your skin, you’d be screaming for a week.
I shrugged slightly, while focusing my eyes back on the scene in front of me. Trying to ignore the sensation of biting ants on my body was like asking a ten-year-old to ignore chicken pox. It could be done, but it took effort. “Second sight is handy that way. You have a really unique signature color. Not particularly pretty, but unique.” His aura was the color of old dried blood, with a touch of oozing tar. Up until last Christmas, it had been a healthy red-gold, but something happened to him to change it, and apparently I’m not high enough in this new family to know the details.
He ignored the statement and returned to my earlier question. “She looks like a thousand other snakes from the back. I need her to turn around. Until she does, tell me the details I’m not seeing . . . both of you.”
This was something that Wolven really did well. Lucas has started to require our reports to include specialization. For example, I see auras, so he wants to know what color and where the weak points are in the person’s power. Will can see a mite on the back of a flea, so from him, Lucas would want to know the tiniest details, from a chipped fingernail to whether the person has dandruff. It’s actually creating a better profile on the known criminals that we haven’t caught up with yet. People not only have tells in their personality that resurface time after time, but also have tiny things they don’t bother to cover up, from moles to ordinary scars and even the position of teeth.
“Aura’s really bright. Bigger than Will’s . . . so at least yours and Lucas’s level and the color of—” I paused and glanced around without moving my head. When I twitched my chin, it was toward the helicopter door. “The call letters on the chopper’s tail, but a shade darker, toward orange. Scent is all snake, heavy on the creosote. Probably venomous.”
“Small tattoo of a coiled snake inside a triangle on her wrist. The watch nearly covers it, but I noticed w
hen she slapped Angelique.” Which she proceeded to do again. The problem was that the chopper, and now the trucks, were loud enough that I couldn’t seem to focus in on the words. Pity I suck at reading lips. I should really look into classes.
The wind was whipping around her long hair and I noticed a second tattoo at the base of her neck . . . the same second as Will spoke again.
“Another tattoo, this one of what looks like a padlock on her L-five neck joint. Is that what it looks like to you, Tony?”
I frankly didn’t see it long enough, but, “Yeah, sort of. I’d have to see it again to be sure. Weak spots in her power at her left ankle.” The woman turned just then, so I got to see her face. From her golden-brown skin, I was expecting her features to be from one of the Latin countries. But no, she was definitely Middle Eastern. Damned if I could figure out where she hailed from, though. I kept reporting, figuring I didn’t have much time before we were going to have to move in, or move out. All those flicking tongues were starting to zone in on our location. “Another weak spot at the hollow of her neck.”
“Yeah,” Will whispered with a nod. “I can see the barest remnant of a scar, just above her collarbone. Looks like it was made with a curved blade—probably silver if it interrupted her aura enough to leave a weak point.”
“Poisoned silver.” Ahmad’s voice was dull and flat. “She barely survived.” It didn’t sound like he was trying to hide his reaction as much as he was too surprised to remember how to inflect. The turmoil of emotions that started to roll off of him was startling. Council members have access to a sweet little invention of Bobby’s. It’s a cologne that disguises a Sazi’s scent. Turns the person into a blank slate, smell-wise. It was confusing as hell to me when I first encountered it and I could have sworn that Ahmad was wearing it when he arrived. So, either he didn’t have any particular emotions when he arrived, or he was really surprised now.
“Sounds like you know her.”
He gave me a look that would have signed his death warrant if he were anyone else. But he answered. “Her name is, or was, Tuli al-Ur . . . and she should be long dead. That she’s standing there says that either I am wrong about her identity, or wrong about the power I’d ascribed to her. Either way, I suggest that it is past time to remove those we came to rescue, and capture her for further investigation.”
I flicked my eyes around to the thick foliage, but nope . . . I wasn’t seeing any neon lights except for us and those with the guns ahead of us. “Did you bring along a cavalry that you haven’t mentioned?” There’s outnumbered, and outnumbered. This is the latter category that even movie heroes are smart enough to avoid. “In fact, why are you here at all? Is there something going on that we should know about?”
Instead of answering he flicked his chin toward the hills to the north and muttered so low that I had to struggle to hear, even with his lips almost close enough to touch my ear. “At the base of those cliffs, there is a cave where we can take the women to rest for a time before getting them back to headquarters. You, wolf, will provide ground cover with the rifles. The bird will change forms, fly in, and carry the women away with his talons. I will kill any opponents you miss.”
Will’s jaw dropped and his scent was filled with a burst of soured milk, which tends to come from disbelief. “Speaking as the bird, the only way I’d be able to pick up the women with my talons long enough to fly would be to sink them into their shoulders and even if I could manage the weight of both, I couldn’t keep the load steady enough to gain any altitude.”
If he’d expected that logic to sway Ahmad, he was wrong. “Locking your claws is the most expedient way to maintain your grip. Angelique would expect no less of a rescuer. Surely you’ve trained for rescues of this sort. Why else would you be selected for this mission?” He let out a sigh that sounded angry and put upon, but his scent was closer to the nauseating, cloying scent of dark humor. “Must I question the other skills Lucas boasted you inherited and simply dismiss you as a risk to this assignment?”
That’s Ahmad for you. He can simultaneously insult both your abilities and family tree, while looking at you like you’re shit to be scraped from his boot. Unlike the rest of the council, there’s little Ahmad likes better than to watch people fail. Gives him some sort of kick. I hate guys like him because their arrogance is usually what causes things to go bad. Still, I’m not stupid enough to say anything to his face. People don’t survive a smart mouth in this world.
Will’s obviously been around long enough not to rise to the bait. You could almost hear his teeth grinding, but he stayed polite while at the same time throwing all the potential blame on Ahmad. “Our instructions were to remove the prisoners without damage. But if you’re confident the guidelines have changed, naturally we’ll follow your direction. You’ll both have to keep those with guns busy so they don’t shoot the hostages. I doubt they’ll consider a single gun much of a threat. You’ll also have to either turn off that chopper prop or get them to move the ladies out from underneath. I’m a good flyer, but I’m not a magician.”
Ahmad stayed still and unblinking for a long moment and then narrowed his pupils. Yeah, he didn’t squint his eyes in anger. He narrowed the pupils until they were slits and let out a foul scent that was like poisoned coffee. That’s just creepy. Still, that was the only outward sign of his annoyance which was a good thing.
Whatever questions Tuli was asking Angelique weren’t getting satisfactory answers, because she slammed my least favorite bird in the face with a rifle butt and then with gestures made it clear that they were to be loaded on the helicopter. We didn’t have much time. “Very well. Wolf, you will lay down ground fire while I move around the flank to eliminate the perimeter guards. I expect two-shot kills, if a three-day can manage that.”
Once again . . . skills and heritage. I stuck out my right hand and pasted on my best smile. “Hi, my name’s Tony. I’ll be your trained assassin today.” Yeah, yeah, I know. Short walk to a long grave, but I couldn’t help myself.
Will let out a noise that could only be interpreted as a strangled laugh. If it weren’t for the fact that he sounded curiously like a howler monkey and there was too much noise from the chopper, we’d probably be diving from bullets.
I decided that it would be prudent to separate myself from the snake man when his jaw opened enough to let out a low hiss. I picked up both my weapon and Will’s and slipped into the undergrowth to get a better location for shooting.
Things happened pretty quickly after that. It didn’t take any great amount of skill to aim and fire on the first guy who caught my eye at the far ring of guards. Like Ahmad instructed, a two-shot kill. That’s the rule for taking out Sazi . . . once in the head and once in the heart. Pop, pop, too fast for the body to heal. I’ve been practicing to lower my time and increase my accuracy, because you really do only get two chances with these guys—especially the powerful ones. But, as expected, once one guard went down the others got all riled up.
Sprays of bullets started firing every direction. Stupid, in my opinion, and I changed my mind about these guys being pros. Movies make it look like there’s unlimited ammo in the world. But in reality, a fifty-round clip takes about five seconds to dump with a full auto, and close to a quarter minute for even a Sazi to reload it. Sure, you can slap in another clip and keep going, but your average-joe-villain on a payroll isn’t considered worth the money to give a dozen clips to. They had the standard taped double-stack clip and probably a load more in an ammo dump somewhere. But somewhere’s a long way away when you’re taking fire.
Ahmad actually didn’t have a bad idea. Everybody was concentrating on my fire as I raced back and forth between multiple points and switched weapons so they’d think there were more of us, while he was sneaking around the edges and just . . . touching people. It was sort of hard to concentrate on my own predicament because he was just strolling up in human form and putting a finger on their neck. A guard would freeze in place with an expression of abject fear and intens
e pain and then they’d just drop to the ground with a glassy stare seconds later. It was like they weren’t even seeing him walk up, bold as brass. I know alphas can cast illusions to make themselves appear to be almost anything, but it just seemed really odd that they wouldn’t notice him at all.
I well and truly need to learn to keep my mouth shut around him.
Out of the corner of my eye as I was taking out another guard, I saw the woman named Tuli starting to push the other women toward the open helicopter door. Angelique wasn’t even resisting. She just looked confused, but the other woman was fighting like a . . . well, a tiger to stay on the ground and she was apparently important enough to them that they weren’t willing to kill her. But the chopper needed to be eliminated from the picture anyway, so I turned my fire and first took out the pilot through the windshield and then started to systematically fire at the base of the prop . . . between bouts of keeping my ass alive.
There was finally a satisfying spray of fluid as I cut a pressurized line and then wisps of smoke began to appear in the sky. Shortly thereafter, people started darting away from the machine as the whirring thup from the prop turned into an angry screech of tortured metal.
Unlike the movies once again, it didn’t explode. While there’s something really satisfying about watching a kick-ass explosion, helicopter manufacturers would have a hundred lawsuits a week if the unit exploded just because a coolant line went down. No, it just started smoking and then ground to a halt, all parts intact. No harm, no foul.
Well, unless you wanted to go somewhere.
Will was there in a flash, diving down in a blur of speed. He did some fancy flicking of a few feathers at the back of his wings, and suddenly he was coming out of the dive, a shoulder and arm gripped in each powerful talon as he fought to gain altitude with two-hundred-plus pounds of weight dangling under him. I’ve noticed that some of those tiger women are really dense, muscle-wise. But the birds are light as . . . well, a bag of feathers, so I’ll just bet he was having loads of fun trying to stay level.
