by Terra Wolf
She shook her head. “Grant can’t ride in the Jeep for two days over that terrain.
He’d never survive.”
“Then I’ll bring a doctor back here,” he said stridently.
“Four days…the boy will not survive that long.” Dobi touched Grant’s cheek, his dark skin a marked contrast to the boy’s pallid complexion.
“What the hell are we supposed to do? Just let him die?”
Angie stepped forward, hugging her husband and child. The tears poured from her, and she barely stifled the escaping sobs.
“Come, friend. Bring him to your hut, and we will sit with him.”
It remained unspoken, but Angie knew Dobi was talking about the traditional seteki, the vigil maintained for the dying. Chants and prayers would be on the lips of every villager who passed through their dwelling, but they wouldn’t be for his recovery. No, the prayers would be for him to find his way in the afterlife, for a safe journey there, and admonishments not to be drawn into the darkness, where he would lose his soul forever.
In a daze, the same state Roman seemed to be in, she allowed Dobi to usher them to the small hut the villagers had built for them when they’d come to stay as Roman helped them build an irrigation system, while Angie taught the children. The place had sheltered them for two years, but now looked threatening due to the shadows shrouding the corners of the room. In that darkness lurked demons trying to steal her son.
The thought was irrational, but she found herself hurriedly lighting the kerosene lamps as Roman laid Grant on the grass mat in the corner, where the boy usually slept. He moved like an old man, his actions stiff and jerky. He seemed to have trouble letting go of his son for a long moment, and when his arms finally released, his legs gave out. As he collapsed to the floor, sobs shook his body, and he buried his face in his hands.
Angie’s heart broke at the sounds of Roman’s suffering, but she couldn’t join him. Right then, she could spare no comfort for him, focused as she was on her son’s needs.
As quickly as possible, Angie gathered up the basic medical supplies she had on hand and knelt beside Grant. Dobi filled a basin with water, inferring her intent by her activity. She dabbed a square of linen inside the cool liquid, rung it out, and began cleansing her son’s wounds. The cloth turned red in seconds, and she accomplished little more than wetting the blood and smearing it around his skin. Still, she kept at the task, working her way through Roman’s entire collection of handkerchiefs. It was clearly a losing battle she waged, but what else could she do? Stand by without trying to help her son at all? Time passed, although Angie didn’t know how much. Contrary to the usual custom of the villagers to visit the dying person, most of the members had maintained a respectful distance. The only constant presence besides Roman had been Dobi, who’d hovered behind them, his eyes wavering between Grant’s still form and the open door of the hut. He had seemed to be waiting for something.
The air of anticipation fled from the hut when the medicine man entered, arriving so quickly he appeared to have materialized inside the small room. As always, his presence made Angie uncomfortable. There was an aloof manner about the man that made him unapproachable. Although she didn’t believe in his practices, he carried himself with an air of mystery and intensity that suggested he dwelt in two worlds— this one, and a spiritual plane others couldn’t even imagine.
Without speaking a word, Kafiri walked over to the grass mat and knelt beside Roman and Angie. She watched with pensive eyes as he examined her son, chanting quietly as he did so. When his dark gaze suddenly turned fully on her, she gasped with shock at the confrontation. It took every ounce of strength not to look away from his compelling gaze.
“There is not much time,” he said in Kimbu.
Roman nodded. “Anytime now, he’ll…” He trailed off, sobs shaking his shoulders, although not a sound emerged from him to betray his outburst.
“You can save him, Kafiri?” Dobi asked as he took up a kneeling position on the other side of Angie.
“Perhaps.”
His words stirred hope in Angie and she brushed aside the voice of doubt, the one that had always privately dismissed the services the medicine man provided for the villagers. “How?”
“By drawing the strength of the tiger.” A frown rearranged the deep grooves on Kafiri’s face, making him look years older than he was. Even his shock of white hair didn’t age him as much as that expression. “It is dangerous, and there will be…side effects.”
“I don’t care. Do what you can.” Angie ignored Roman’s shocked expression, just as she ignored her own reservations. He was as logical as she was. No doubt he found the concept crazy. Her rational side shared the view, but her maternal side found the small hope the shaman offered ridiculously easy to cling to.
“But you must understand—”
“Do it,” she said in a hard voice. There was nothing to lose by allowing the old man to practice his superstitions on Grant. With no doctor available, and her son dying faster with each passing second, she was willing to try anything.
After a second’s hesitation, Kafiri nodded. “I will do what I can, regardless of the consequences.”
“Just save my son.” Angie gripped Roman’s hand as she uttered the request, needing his strength to get through what was coming. The slight optimism she felt was bound to abandon her, leaving her completely despondent when the medicine man’s treatment failed. She would need her husband more than she ever had before to get through the trial of burying her only child in a foreign land.
One
Natunde Valley Nature
Preserve Present Day
Rage swept through Grant, as did stomach-twisting nausea, when he saw the full extent of the wildebeest’s fatal injuries. He carefully pushed aside the tarp Manu had wrapped the calf in upon discovering its grisly remains on his rounds through the preserve. The exam table, although to its full height, was just low enough to require Grant to either stoop or sit on a stool during exams. This time, he chose to stoop, knowing there would be no need for full mobility since the poor calf was dead.
“Those goddamned soldiers used this baby for target practice, didn’t they?” Manu asked, his rage clearly matching Grant’s.
“It looks that way.”
“You’re the vet. Did they, or didn’t they? Was there any possible justification for this?” He waved a hand at the ragged carcass.
Grant looked up, taking a moment to breathe deeply in hopes of controlling his emotions. “Could there ever be justification for this? The bullets are large caliber, probably from a machine gun. They didn’t kill it for food, because there isn’t enough left to salvage anything. Whoever did this was sadistic.”
“I’d like to get my hands on them.”
The disturbing glint in his friend’s eyes made Grant swallow. He closed his eyes for a second, focusing on remaining in control. Any lapse could lead to disaster. The beast was always threatening to break through his veneer of humanity with the slightest provocation. “I share your sentiments, Manu.” The cool calm in his voice helped him rein in the anger, and the urge to shift gradually faded.
“They’re tearing our country apart. Is it not enough to force Mekimban men into their militia, to rape the women, and leave countless children orphaned?” He shook his head, his disgust clear. “Are there not enough human targets to satisfy them? Now they come onto our protected lands to kill this baby.”
“Considering the other atrocities the army commits daily against humans, this is nothing for them, Manu.” Grant covered the calf with the tarp again, knowing there was no further need for examination. It hadn’t died from disease or normal injury, so he had no need to monitor the herd for health issues.
“Animals,” Manu muttered.
“No,” Grant said in a soft voice. “Animals act on instinct. When they kill, it is not for pleasure.” His nature gave him a unique perspective on the animal condition.
Manu sighed. “True, my friend. To call those cretin
s animals is to insult every creature living on this preserve.”
When the silence lengthened, Grant stood up straight, moving to the drawer where he kept his nonmedical paraphernalia to retrieve a roll of tape. Working without speaking, the two of them wrapped the wildebeest in the tarp and taped it closed. Later that night, one of the rangers would see to its cremation. In the interim, they carried the body behind the clinic, leaving it wrapped tightly to protect the corpse from scavengers before it could be disposed of.
After Manu preceded him, Grant shut the door to the freezer and leaned against it. The work of moving the calf hadn’t been exhausting. It was the emotional torment associated with the situation that left him with a sensation of full-body fatigue.
It took a second, but he managed to stand up straight and follow Manu back into the exam room of the clinic. He expected the director of the preserve to keep going, so it was with surprise that Grant watched him eyeing the room.
Appearing uncomfortable, Manu cleared his throat. “You have enough space here, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Most of the time, the other table is free, as you know.” To Grant’s relief, most of the animals on the preserve rarely required transport to the clinic itself. Ninety percent of the time, he took a vehicle out whenever there was an injured or ill animal.
“Good, that’s good.” Manu stroked his goatee, his fingers rustling the crisp curls. “I have done something spontaneously, Grant. I should have discussed it with you first, but I acted without thought.”
His eyebrow quirked. “I work for you, Manu. Why would you need to consult me?” “Because the clinic is your domain, and I have offered its resources to another.”
Grant frowned. “You’re hiring a second vet?” That made no sense. There were days when he himself had little to do on the medical side of things and spent his time like the rangers, patrolling the preserve for poachers and other problems.
“No. Do you know the clinic two miles from here? Dr. Senghor runs it.” “I know of her.”
“The fighting is much too close to her clinic now. She needed a place to bring her practice so she could continue seeing patients.” Manu ducked his head, looking like an embarrassed child. “I offered her space here at the clinic.”
Grant inclined his head. “That was a logical thing to do.”
Manu appeared relieved. “I had hoped you would not mind.” He stroked his goatee. “I don’t know how I ended up making the offer when I ran into her at the store in Natunde.”
“It’s fine.” Grant’s voice emerged steadily, hiding his anxiety. The clinic was his haven, where he could retreat from stimuli that might trigger a transformation. With the doctor infringing on his space, he wouldn’t have anywhere he could withdraw to. But Manu didn’t know how important his sanctuary was to him, and it was too late to protest. Besides, how could he, in good conscience? The people Dr. Senghor helped were more important than infringement on his private refuge.
A grin split Manu’s face, revealing shining teeth. “I am happy to hear that, my friend, because Dr. Senghor will be here within the hour.”
Biting back a groan, Grant managed to nod again, while wondering what tasks he could undertake to keep himself away from the doctor. He had to establish a routine that would minimize time spent with her, lest he accidentally reveal the nature of the beast trapped within.
Zinsa engaged the parking brake and shut off the roaring engine of the old truck she had used to convey supplies and patients from her clinic to the makeshift site at the nature preserve. The door creaked when she opened it, and the muggy air settled on her like a shroud. During the drive over bumpy terrain, having the window down had given the illusion of cool air circulating, but she couldn’t fool herself any longer. Even the buzzing flies seemed lethargic.
She slid from the truck, letting gravity carry her to the ground. As always, she made a mental note to install a step on the truck, but knew she probably never would. The value of the hulk of metal didn’t warrant the investment. Besides, she thought with a small grin, the weight of the addition might destabilize the rusty bolts holding together the wreck on wheels.
The door groaned again when she slammed it, the window vibrating in the frame. Zinsa ignored the racket while simultaneously wondering how anyone unaccustomed to the truck could take no notice of all the noise. She had expected someone at the preserve’s headquarters to come out to investigate, but as the dust settled, no one stepped out of the complex of wooden buildings that formed the offices and sleeping quarters of the employees.
“Hello?” she called. Receiving no reply, she moved away from the truck toward the entrance of the clinic, hoping to find someone available to help unload. She and the patients had managed to pack up everything from the clinic, but most were ill and worn
out from the trip. It wasn’t advisable to have the older patients lifting heavy boxes, which left only her, but she wasn’t looking forward to doing all the work alone.
Stepping into the clinic caused a shiver to race down her spine. Not from the air circulated by multiple fans, but from the sight through the open office door of a man hunched over his desk, logging an entry into a ledger. His blond hair was a perfect foil for his dark tan, and the lightly curling locks made her fingers itch to run through them.
Surprised by her reaction, Zinsa walked to the doorway, composing her expression before clearing her throat. He jerked at the sound, and she said, “Sorry if I startled you, Dr. Hayden. I’m Zinsa Senghor. Manu might have mentioned…”
He nodded. Beyond a quicksilver flash of some inscrutable emotion in his green eyes, his expression was bland. “Yes. Would you like a tour?”
Zinsa walked closer to him, stopping before a large fan to pull her sticky tank top away from her skin, letting the artificial breeze waft over her. She sighed with contentment at the sensation, barely forcing herself to turn away to answer the vet. “Sure, but I need to get the patients in first, along with supplies. Care to give me a hand?”
After a brief hesitation, he nodded. “Of course.” His chair squeaked when he pushed away from the basic desk.
Her eyes widened as he stood up straight. He was the tallest man she had ever seen. Surely he stood at least six-and-a-half feet. With his height, it wouldn’t have been unwarranted to expect him to be bulging with muscles, but he had a trim physique. This was a man unafraid of physical labor, but not one who wasted hours honing his body to its maximum potential. Her mouth watered as he walked toward her and she swallowed, wishing he didn’t have the kind of frame she found appealing.
Most of all, she wished she didn’t feel this sensation that made her tingle, as if she had been struck by lightning. Was it the family gift—or curse, depending on how one looked at it? Was she finally experiencing the thing her father had described, had promised she would find someday? After thirty-two years, she had assumed it would never happen to her. It couldn’t be happening now. With setting up a makeshift practice and seeing to her patients here instead of at her own clinic, she didn’t have time for distractions.
At least, not right away, she thought with a mischievous grin as she turned to lead the way to her truck. Give her a couple of days, and he would be fair game. She would discover if what she felt was just instant attraction or something more. Grant paused in his assigned task of unloading a cumbersome box from the back of the truck to watch Zinsa assist her last elderly patient down. He was probably going to Hell for lusting after her while she performed the altruistic task of straightening the old woman’s housedress and bandana, before tucking an arm around the birdlike frame to lead her inside the clinic. He should be overwhelmed with sympathy for the old woman, not noticing the way the sweaty gray shirt clung to Zinsa’s full breasts or the way her hips shimmied as she walked with unconscious feminine grace.
Mouth dry, Grant managed to tear his eyes from her form as she disappeared into the clinic, bringing his attention back to the task of balancing the large box and carrying it inside. Three of the rangers,
who mysteriously had nothing to do, had also volunteered their services for unloading and unpacking. He resented the way their eyes followed the doctor, although he had no right to, when his were equally glued to her every move.
At the pace they were progressing, with the men unloading while Zinsa saw to assisting each of her four patients with getting settled, they would have her set up in no time. The thought terrified Grant. The fiery, instant attraction he’d experienced upon shaking her hand alarmed him. He couldn’t afford to lose control. Why did she have to be so tempting?
“Are you bonding with that box, Dr. Hayden?” Her crisp English accent lent the teasing words an air of seriousness she probably hadn’t meant to impart, judging from the grin on her face.
Grant jerked out of his reverie, his face burning with the heat of embarrassment. Mumbling something unintelligible, he brushed past her where she leaned against the door, completely aware of the heat of her body and the appealing scent underlying the odor of perspiration. It wasn’t perfume catching his attention. Just her womanly, musky scent that made him salivate.
As quickly as he could, he dumped the box into the area Zinsa would be using and fled to his office, closing the door. Her smell lingered in his nose, or maybe just his memory, and he snorted, trying to clear it.
Realizing he was leaning against the door, his cock throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart, getting aroused just by the scent of the doctor, he cursed his foolishness and strode to his desk, dropping into the rickety wooden chair. It squeaked under the force of his weight, but held as it always did.
Casting a brooding glare to where Zinsa was now setting up her makeshift clinic, Grant searched for some other thought to occupy his mind. He could be doing inventory in preparation for his monthly order, or he could take the Land Rover out to observe the herds. Many babies would be coming in the next few weeks, and he liked to have an accurate headcount for each of the different herds.
