We take a short breather on a ledge. “You’re saying that you and my sister perform exorcisms on vomiting children with rotating heads?” I ask, noticing the tiny lizard who’s hitched a ride up on my shoulder. I decide to leave it there.
Brenek cracks his knuckles. “We leave the heavy lifting to the clergy.” As we resume climbing, he adds, “Ruby was assigned to investigate a series of missing-person cases. The leadership thought Paxton was connected, and they were right. But she kept digging and got caught up in what turned out to be separate vamp activity.”
Werepeople don’t tend to dabble in evil mysticism. But not everyone with a tail is a white hat. “So you moved on to other suspects, like the manager at Sanguini’s.”
We pull ourselves onto the summit. From a distance, a bird calls, Tchak, tchak, tchak. Raising the binoculars, I see torches burning outside the lodge.
“There were two sets of scumbags working out of Central Texas — vamps targeting humans, and the yetis’ crew, targeting shifters. Ruby got caught in the cross fire, so to speak. Her last report was dated September twelfth. So far as we know, she’s still alive.”
I can only pray that’s the case. “How’d she hook up with the coalition, anyway?”
“Your grandmother,” Brenek replies. “She’s been an operative for over thirty years.”
“Get out!” I exclaim.
Wow, that explains a lot.
BRENEK AND I aren’t back at camp five minutes before I try out one of the hammocks, made of interwoven bark and vine, secured between tree trunks. It feels good to finally relax a little. The past couple of days have pushed my endurance to the limit.
I wake around noon on Tuesday, roused by a skittering noise.
A rat scurries past the fire, raising its nose to sniff the smoke before hurrying on. Up in the trees, I spot three black monkeys with white faces sitting in a row on a branch. It’s creepy, like they’re studying me. I hiss. They flinch and start bouncing in place.
Something else catches my eye — a pile of seashells, each filled with multicolored blooms, bright-yellow ones shaped like trumpets and others that I recognize as orchids. Sweet. They’re a gift from James to his bride.
The Wolves don’t complain — none of us do — but I can’t imagine this is how they planned to spend their honeymoon. They’re quiet, and it’s like they have an almost psychic connection. At dinner last night, Mei told me they met between seventh and eighth grade at a science camp and have never even dated anyone else. Luis has made them our official water fetchers, if only to give them some alone time.
Plus the waterfall is kind of romantic. It makes me think of Aimee, and I’m glad she’s safe back in Austin. I wonder what she thinks became of me.
As I close my eyes again, I hear a cracking noise. “Who’s there?”
Where did everyone go? Fishing? Hunting? I don’t expect them to babysit me, but . . . I hear a footstep. A paw step? My new friends would’ve answered my call.
I hear another footfall against the tangled undergrowth and rush forward, leaping over a fallen tree and grabbing a vine to swing Tarzan-style.
The monkeys flee, chirping madly, as I scan the landscape below.
It’s a girl! A wild child, filthy, with her short, dark hair sticking out in all directions. I drop, grabbing her by the arms. She spits and scratches and squirms.
“Stop it!” I yell as she sinks her teeth into my forearm. She’s young, thirteen or fourteen, stocky and athletic, with vicious teeth. I can’t ID her species by scent.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I assure her. It sounds ridiculous in light of the blood streaming down my arm. “I’m Yoshi. What’s your name?”
Apparently deciding she can’t gnaw through me to freedom, she unlocks her sharp teeth and spits at my face again. “Teghan.”
Then she slams her knee into my crotch, and doubling over, I blink back stars.
The Wolves rush onto the scene, and James asks, “Who’s your friend?”
By the time Luis and Brenek reappear to check the hog roast, the Wolves and I have told Teghan about the coming hunt and what we know of the yetis.
Silent, she keeps her distance, kicking a log, ready to bolt at any moment, but clearly eager to know why she’s on the island and what’s happening here.
Suddenly Teghan freezes in place, her eyes wide. As we were talking, we slowly spread out, and with the arrival of the Bears, she’s surrounded.
“How long have you been on the island?” Luis asks.
In reply, Teghan fists her hands and clicks her teeth.
“It might help if we knew your species,” I say. “What’s your animal form?”
When that gets us nowhere, Mei tries next. “It’s only natural that you’re feeling traumatized by —”
“Shut up, bitch!” the girl snarls.
Mei merely shrugs. Most women would take offense, but she is a Wolf, after all.
“You might want to rethink your attitude,” Luis says. “We’re all in this together.” He takes a few purposeful steps forward, and so the rest of us do the same, closing in.
Together, we’re a thousand pounds of predatory impatience and intimidation.
Giving the log one last good kick, Teghan finally announces, “I am a Tasmanian weredevil. My father is a Texan, and my mother was —”
“From Tasmania?” Brenek puts in.
Narrowing her eyes, Teghan says, “Good guess.”
Luis extends his hand in welcome, and after eyeing him suspiciously for a moment, Teghan shakes it and barks a laugh.
Just what we need, an unstable Tasmanian weredevil — the hands-down meanest, most depraved, and most disagreeable of all weremarsupials (though I may be biased because my arm and balls still ache).
Mei offers her a freshly boiled cloth. “Here — your cheek is bleeding.”
The new girl’s young enough that her healing ability probably isn’t as strong as the rest of ours, and the last thing we need is a wound infection.
Wiping her face, Teghan glances my way. “Sorry I bit you.”
It still stings. I notice she doesn’t bother to apologize for kneeing me. Then again, Teghan is just a kid, and Mei was right. She’s probably traumatized. “Maybe you’re sorry,” I reply. “But I’m not. It tells me you’re a fighter.”
Mei tracks down some leaves with antiseptic properties to apply to Teghan’s cut and, just to be safe, my bite wound and ankle. Then she departs with the kid for the waterfall to wash up, while the Bears haul the hog out of the pit and James and I carve it with our claws.
It’s a slapdash, primitive process. But we did cook the hog. We are working together. Things may have been touch and go with Teghan for a minute, but we’re not going all Lord of the Flies on each other.
AFTER THE PORK FEAST, Teghan comes up with a brilliantly vicious idea, to lure the hunters into camouflaged Burmese tiger pits.
Given our animal forms, we all like to dig, and we’re fantastic at it.
“I am supervising,” Teghan informs us, hands on her hips like a little general.
Luis growls a low warning, asserting his alpha status.
“I am gathering brush,” Teghan amends, marching off with equal enthusiasm.
“Don’t go far,” I call.
We’ve already warned the kid off fetching deadwood for the fires. You never know what’s slithering in or under it. Luis is handling that job himself.
“At the last hunt,” he begins, “everyone panicked at the horn. We scattered in all different directions, and they basically picked us off, one by one. This — holding our ground and luring the bad guys in — might actually work. Whatever they are . . . demons, vampires, humans, faerie . . . impaling should do them in.”
“I’m not a killer,” I reply, pausing to sit on my haunches.
“You have a right to defend yourself,” Brenek insists, hollowing out the pit to my right. “Yourself, us, and Teghan.” With a hearty grunt, he dislodges a rock. “One thing: with vamps, you’ve got t
o impale the heart or take off the head, and the older ones can turn to mist or dust, which makes that tricky.”
“There may not be vampires at all,” Luis puts in. “There weren’t last time.”
I move to help him lift out a stone. “But if so, they can be hurt.”
“We’ll do the best we can,” James adds, hushing us as Teghan strides back into view with an armload of greenery. He glances from her to Mei, his expression pensive.
The pressure on the newlyweds is more intense than for the rest of us. It’s not just about personal survival or pitching in for the team. For each of them, the person they love most is in fatal danger.
“Teghan,” Mei begins as the weredevil rejoins us, “are you feeling all right? You didn’t eat very much.”
It’s true. She picked at the pork. I don’t know if I saw her actually eat any of it.
Teghan dumps the leaves onto a pile. “I’m a vegetarian. No food with a face.”
Everyone else cracks up, and in fairness, it’s ridiculous, coming from a young weredevil, especially under our dire circumstances.
On the other hand, Teghan can’t go on like this. Mei can probably throw together a nonpoisonous salad, but Teghan needs protein to keep her strength up.
“How about clamlike things?” I grab a hand axe. “Do they have faces?”
Teghan brightens. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” I say. “Maybe we can find some seaweed, too.”
We’ve almost reached the beach when Teghan mutters, “I’m useless.”
I slow down so it’s easier for her to keep up. She can move fast, and she’s not the slightest bit out of breath. But the jungle is dense, and I have the benefit of a Cat’s agility. “You came up with the idea of the traps. That was fierce.”
“I read a lot,” Teghan says, scratching behind her ear. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
She’s too young to have that look in her eye. Hoping the kid will take the hint, I admit, “I’ve never been much of a relationship person. There was a girl. . . .” I can’t help thinking of Aimee. “But at this rate, I’ll never see her again.”
“I’m not a relationship person, either,” Teghan replies, as if she’s had a world of experience. “It’s nice of you to help me find something to eat. I am hungry.”
I bet she’s starving. “My sister, Ruby, is a vegetarian,” I say. “So I understand.” Not really. What’s life without bacon? But I’ve learned to be tolerant of it.
We’ve almost reached the beach, and I can hardly wait. I didn’t volunteer for this errand for strictly selfless reasons. The jungle’s starting to make me feel claustrophobic. I’m used to the wide-open spaces of the plains.
“My big brother always made fun of my diet,” Teghan informs me, scratching a bite on her forearm. “He’s the favorite. My parents tell him everything first, let him do everything first. . . .” She sounds wistful. “I’m sure they’re all looking for me.”
“I’m sure they are.” It’s no time to get maudlin. “My grandmother likes my big sister better, too.” Muttering, I add, “Or at least trusted her to infiltrate the evil undead while I was bored out of my mind, selling bonsai to hakujin in the middle of no —”
“Huh?” Teghan asks, tripping over undergrowth. “What’s a ha —”
“Never mind,” I say at the edge of the beach. “It’s not important.”
A whirring noise fills the air from above. At the sight of the helicopter, I dare to hope for rescue. Then I see the yeti leaning out, his rifle pointed in our direction.
“Teghan!” I shout, pulling the weredevil to her feet. “Back to camp! Run!”
I tear out down the sand, hoping to lead them away from her, as the copter swoops in. The propeller is deafening. No doubt the other shifters can hear it from the camp.
I’ve taken a dozen steps when the blow knocks me over. I roll, snared in a thick, heavy net. My hand axe is no use against it. Ditto my claws. The rope has a steel-wire core. The weredevil hesitates, half concealed in ferns. “Teghan!” I shout. “Go!”
Amid swirling sand, I glimpse her disappearing into the jungle.
I HAVE A SEMI-WORKABLE, kind of shaky plan, but I’ll need help to pull it off.
I considered using charades to try to enlist one of the interns, but they’ve all signed contracts, and the penalties for breach are catastrophic. Any hint of defiance and their respective families will have no chance of financial recovery — for generations. (There’s an English-language copy of the agreement in my room, still unsigned.)
Given that Cameron is literally soulless, I’m left with only one viable, not particularly good option. From a cracked-open doorway, I whisper, “Psst! Paxton!”
He glances around the otherwise-empty first-floor hallway. “Aimee?”
The Cat lets me yank him by the wrist into a walk-in closet stocked with linens, tissues, toilet paper, and cleaning supplies.
“I need your help,” I whisper, shutting the door. Am I nervous? Yeah, I am, especially after his dominance display at the club. But I know better than to show fear.
“I don’t usually do human girls,” Paxton replies, reaching to stroke my cheek. “But since we’re both desperate . . .”
“Shh!” I bat his hand away. “Listen, Sandra told me the snowmen are planning to get rid of you — as in permanently — after this hunt. You’re too hard to control, lousy company, and they don’t need such a powerful shifter to lure new ones in. They just need someone, anyone, with an ‘in’ to the werepeople community who can be bought.” Total lie, but it sounds like the truth. I practiced it last night in front of a mirror.
As Paxton digests that, I add, “You have access to whatever sedative you used on me and my friends at that parking garage in Austin. Hand it over, and I’ll see to it that we all escape the island alive.” I have to make this fast. The longer we’re in here, the more likely it is that one of the interns will discover us talking and report it to Sandra.
Paxton folds his arms across his chest. “Or I could steal a boat and leave you all behind. Easy peasy. No bossy, flat-chested virgins required.”
I hate him. “The guard at the dock will be wary of you. They all are.” I gesture vaguely from his tight white T-shirt and blue jeans to my regulation lime-colored uniform. “To them, I’m just another intern — at most, Sandra’s new English-speaking protégé.”
The Cat doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed.
“Think you can go it alone?” I press, taking a cautious step closer. “Best-case scenario, the snowmen will still hunt you down when you get home to the States. Or have some thug do it for them. Think, Paxton. Hunting werepeople is what they’re into. They’ve built a thriving business around it. If we want to truly be free, we have to bring down this whole operation.”
After a pause, he finally admits, “Point made. What’re you suggesting?”
I flip off the light so no one notices it under the door. “Once the hunt begins, almost all of the snowmen will clear off the island, leaving the interns to babysit the place.” I’d rather not risk Yoshi and the others by waiting that long, but our best chance of success will be when the snowmen’s defenses are at their weakest.
I add, “Once I get the dock guard out of the way, I’ll turn off the power grid, including the high-frequency barrier.” I’d considered targeting the generator directly, but it’s housed in an electrified cage. “Then it won’t be just the two of us. We’ll have the island shifters — multiple werepredators — on our side.”
“Assuming the clients haven’t slaughtered them all first,” Paxton replies. Then as an afterthought he adds, “There’s this girl, Teghan.”
“What about her?” I ask, having heard a surprising tone of regret in his voice. “Since when do you care about any of them?”
“I don’t,” he admits. “Not for the most part. But Teghan . . . Sandra identified her at the shop and ordered me to bring her in. The deific have never featured a Tasmanian weredevil before. It gave them so
mething new to highlight in the promotional brochure.”
It’s creepy, whispering with him in the dark. “You have feelings for her?”
“It’s not like that,” Paxton says. “She’s just a kid. I don’t trade in children. Besides, I’ve always had a soft spot for Tasmanian devils. What else do you need?”
I’m betting he’s a Looney Tunes fan. I’m a Bugs Bunny girl myself. “Can you get a message to the jungle shifters and let them know the barrier is coming down? Clyde, too? He’ll need help, but —”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Paxton flips the light back on. He withdraws a narrow vial of amber liquid from the front pocket of his jeans. “Here’s a dose of the drug. I’ve been carrying it around for self-protection.” He gives me a measuring look. “If I can get a message to the jungle shifters, I will. If I can’t, too bad — that’s my best offer. But there’s no guarantee they’ll trust me. In fact, they probably won’t.”
“I’ll give you code words,” I reply. “Something that tells my friends I’m in on the plan.” I turn my back to secure the vial under my breasts, inside my bra. “For Yoshi, try ‘cupcake kisses.’ For Clyde, ‘Cloud City.’”
“Kisses, huh?” Paxton replies with a smirk.
“Shut up.” I face him again. “What about the interns? They’ll be guarding the cliff.”
“They’re being trained in finance, accounting, marketing — not combat,” he says. “Besides, they can’t see any better than you do. Clients aside, the most dangerous part will be the stretch near the hunt starting point because of the floodlights. Otherwise, we’ve got the dark of night on our side. We’ll move fast.”
“Faster than speeding bullets?” I counter.
The closet door opens, and Cameron is standing there, chewing on a wooden toothpick. “Looking for something, children? A lightbulb, perhaps?”
Just when I’m sure we’re busted, the demon winks at us and strolls off, chuckling.
A YETI WITH BRAIDED BANGS shoves me toward a caged Lion. I recognize her as the woman from the band flyer. Then I exclaim, “Clyde! What’re you doing here?”
Feral Nights Page 11
