Feral Nights

by Cynthia Leitich Smith

  The hog hasn’t been dead that long. There’s still meat on the carcass. I salivate, briefly wondering if Lions scavenge.

  The Bear greets me: “Nice to meet you, man.”

  “He must’ve been hiding in the jungle, too,” the kid puts in.

  “If the sound barrier is coming down, it should be down by now,” Yoshi says. “We’ve got to move. Where are the real Mei and James? And for God’s sake, Brenek, find something to cover your junk with. Teghan and my sister are standing right here.”

  “Not that I’m looking,” Ruby assures him. “Or interested in looking.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing,” Yoshi insists.

  “I’m looking,” Teghan pipes up.

  The Bear rips down a hammock, yanks out the bark, and secures what’s left by tying together the vines at his side, over his right hip. “The Wolves are supposed to be waiting for us at the jungle’s edge, across from the lodge. That was the plan, right? Avoid getting tangled up in the hunt and make a beeline out of here?

  “We have to go with it. And fast. That overdressed vampire bitch might double back after us like the human woman did.”

  It’s nothing but noise. I’ve found my prize. Ruby is scraped, body-painted, and wearing a thrashed T-shirt that falls mid-thigh. She looks every inch like sex personified.

  I hate myself for still finding her attractive.

  Ruby sniffs at me. “What’re you waiting for? A Courage Medal?”

  It doesn’t matter that I’m outnumbered. Or that I don’t know how many other death pits they’ve rigged. Or the more global insanity that seems to permeate every inch of this island. All I can think about is Travis and the way he died.

  Throwing back my head, I roar. It’s the loudest noise I’ve ever made.

  I relish the flash of fear in Ruby’s green eyes.

  The Bear holds up a steadying hand. “Take it easy, man.”

  Ignoring him, I attack. Ruby dodges to the side, grabs a branch, and pulls herself out of reach. Can Lions climb trees? I’m about to try following her up when Yoshi throws himself between me and the trunk.

  “Go on,” he orders the others. “Brenek, take Teghan. We’ll catch up.”

  “Yoshi!” the girl protests. “You’re hurt —”

  Brenek tosses her over one shoulder and, ignoring her screeching, jogs off.

  Yoshi begins again, this time addressing me. “I don’t know if you’re ensorcelled or just a random asshole. But that’s my sister you just lunged at, so unless you want to take me out, too — and God, I’m in no shape to fight a Lion — show your human-form face and tell us what the hell is wrong with you. Now.”

  If I hurt Yoshi, Aimee will never forgive me, especially since he’s already injured and being all noble and annoying in the face of probable death. Jerk.

  It’s total BS that I’m self-conscious about retracting the shift. I can hear my bones grind, feel fluids leaking. There’s a flash of pain.

  By the time it’s faded, I’m soaking wet and shaking and a whole lot less threatening to look at. Being butt naked, too, only makes me feel more vulnerable.

  At least some of the muscle I’d picked up from Lion form has stuck, and though it’s hard to tell in the moonlight, I’d swear my once salt-and-pepper body hair is now tinged a golden brown.

  “You look taller,” Yoshi finally says, almost keeping the shock out of his voice. “You are taller — two inches, maybe three.” He frowns. “Does Aimee know about this?”

  Before I can reply, Ruby calls from above, “Um, hello? What’s going on?”

  My gaze searches the treetops, zeroes in on her shadowy form. “My name is Clyde Leonard Gilbert. You killed Travis Reid, and I’m here to make you pay for it.”

  Ruby snaps her fingers. “You’re that other dishwasher from Sanguini’s.” She executes a midair flip on the way down. “You think I —”

  “The Armadillos . . .” Yoshi puts in. “A lot of people in Austin think it was you. Travis’s family put a price on your head.” He adds, “By now it’s on mine, too.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Ruby insists. “I tried to save Travis.” She pauses, frowning up at her younger brother. “I wasn’t the only Cat-form shifter in the park that night.”

  Yoshi asks me, “How do you know it was Ruby?”

  Come to think of it, Travis never said that he saw Ruby attack him, only that he was sure it had been a Cat that pounced him from behind. What with everything else that was going on at the time and her being on the scene and in the thick of it, we all assumed . . . But there was another local Cat, prowling for shifters, the one whose fault it is that we’re all here. “Paxton?”

  “Paxton,” Ruby agrees in a hollow voice.

  I JOG THROUGH the tiki torches, toward the cages, eager to free Clyde, and run into a Cat fight. Paxton spits blood. “You worthless junkie, Noelle!”

  “You dealt it!” she counters, pointing a crutch I recognize as Clyde’s.

  “I’m a businessman.” Paxton replies. “If you couldn’t handle —”

  “Hey!” I exclaim. “Powerful werepredators! News flash: The interns are distracted by the pretty fire. Nobody’s guarding the dock. How about you secure our yacht, figure out where on earth we are, and do anything more useful than this?”

  “Duck,” Noelle shouts at me.

  I do, and she blasts electricity from the crutch, leveling a gun-wielding guard-intern, who falls to the ground behind me.

  “Was that necessary?” I exclaim.

  “I thought so,” Noelle replies.

  “Definitely,” Paxton adds.

  At least they’ve found something they can agree on. “Are those Clyde’s crutches?” I ask. “Where —?”

  “Clyde will return with the other shifters at any moment,” Noelle assures me as Paxton hauls the unconscious, possibly deceased, guard into the nearest bushes.

  “Return?” I exclaim. “You mean he went into the jungle?”

  Ignoring me, she raises her nose. “The fire is spreading.”

  I believe Noelle that Clyde escaped his cage, but I feel compelled to double-check anyway. No Possum. I continue alone toward the canopy, where the hunt began.

  My first thought is that Sandra, still secured to one of the poles, blacked out, but there’s something empty about her stillness.

  “Are you my consolation prize?” a cloying, feminine voice inquires.

  It takes a moment to locate Elina in the low moonlight, beyond the torches, now that the floodlights are out.

  She wipes what’s likely Sandra’s blood from her lips, and I recall with a gulp that the tattooed crosses that once protected me are now covered by rose-beige concealer.

  “What a wretched night!” Elina whines. “The hunt was boring, I lost my Victor, and some cocky werebear is apparently stalking me around the globe. I doubt that even ripping out your squishy heart will make me feel better. I have half a mind to drown my sorrows in a bottle of holy water.”

  Half a mind is too generous an assessment in my opinion. But before I can choke out that parting thought, the tip of a bamboo spear bursts out of her chest. Her bloody lips turn to soot, her thin nose disintegrates, and her long black hair blows wild before she collapses into dust at my feet. The wind catches and disperses what’s left of her.

  Strong arms lift me in a fierce embrace. “Yoshi?”

  Clyde steps away, holding me at arm’s length.

  Or at least I think he’s Clyde. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I’m looking at an older brother that I know he doesn’t have. Clyde’s wearing a sort of skirt made of leaves and vines, and sporting a newly defined set of shoulders, arms, pecs, abs, legs . . . and whatever’s under that skirt.

  Not that I’m superficial. Not that I’m gawking.

  Okay, I’m gawking.

  He grins. “I hate that arctic-white hair color on you.”

  So do I. “Nice outfit,” I reply, reminding myself that most shifters are more comfortable showing skin than most humans. St
ill, there’s a lot of beefcake on display.

  My gaze moves to a likewise half-naked Yoshi. “What happened?”

  At that moment, Clyde stops touching me, and I miss the feel of his hands.

  “Bullet,” Yoshi replies, holding a wad of bloody material to the wound. “It didn’t hit anything that won’t heal fast.”

  The Cat’s steady on his feet, but that had to have hurt. I hope he’s not just being brave.

  Meanwhile, a big guy, dressed like Clyde, sets down a thoroughly pissed-off tween girl in shorts and a training bra. He introduces himself as Brenek, her as Teghan, and the more put-together couple with them as Mei and James.

  Another young woman steps forward. Recognizing her from pictures, I say, “You must be Ruby Kitahara.”

  Yoshi moves to my side and wraps a possessive arm around my shoulders. “Ruby didn’t kill your friend Travis,” he announces, almost gleefully. “Paxton did.”

  FIERY GROUNDS SEPARATE US from the lodge. The flames stretch from the sheer, soaring rock wall on one side to the ocean on the other. The fire is orange and yellow, filled with curling dark shadows. Clyde breathes Noelle’s name, and Yoshi mutters, “On the bright side, if there’s any air traffic nearby, our smoke signal’s a lot bigger.”

  Then Cameron calls, “Hey, kids.” He skips toward us through the blaze like it barely tickles, wearing blue jeans and a tight T-shirt that reads: HORNY LITTLE DEVIL.

  “Cameron!” I exclaim. “What were you thinking? Are you trying to burn down the whole island?”

  “Bad news, sweetie pie.” Ignoring my criticism of his handiwork, the demon crosses his scaly arms over his thin chest and says, “The human sycophants are in retreat mode. They’ve already captured and loaded Noelle and Paxton onto the yacht. They’re giving the clients another three minutes to show.” He glances at his Swatch. “Make that a minute and a half. Then they’re out of here.”

  Taking our last chance of freedom with them.

  “The hunters are all dead,” Yoshi replies.

  Brenek asks, “You’re friends with a demon?”

  Not exactly. “How was I supposed to know he’s a pyromaniac?”

  “He’s a demon!” Ruby exclaims. “Have you not heard of hellfire?”

  “He’s a demon?” Teghan echoes. “That’s awesome.”

  “No, it’s not,” Yoshi scolds.

  “Werepeople!” I exclaim. “Will you please give me one minute to think?”

  We could retreat into the jungle, try to outrun it. But this is an island. There’s nowhere to go. The beach maybe, but without shelter . . .

  Besides, the fire will just keep coming. We have to make this work somehow.

  I step, nose-to-nose, facing Cameron. “You cast the spell that sparked this inferno. You can put it out.” He doesn’t look impressed. “Uh, would you please put it out?”

  “Excuse me,” he replies. “I believe you owe me something in exchange for this . . .”— he waves his arms in the direction of the building inferno —“distraction.”

  I reach into my skirt pocket. “You mentioned that connections are important in the underworld.”

  “It’s a lot like earth that way,” Cameron says. “All about who you know.”

  I offer him my business card from the restaurant. “When you get home, give this to a tall, smarmy dude who answers to the name Bradley Sanguini. If hell has a kitchen, he’s the one running it. Tell him we vouch for your cooking skills.”

  Cameron squints at the card. “You’re saying the dude’s a player? Downstairs?”

  I have to make this good. “I’m saying he managed to revive the essence of Dracula Prime and nearly brought on a worldwide, Carpathian-level undead apocalypse. Clyde and I almost died, banishing Brad and the Count to hell. I’m talking über-ambitious evil and creative about it, the kind of big bad they write sonnets about. Plus he’s the ultimate foodie, you know, for someone who never eats solids.”

  “And you two sent this guy and Count Fabulous to hell?” the demon presses.

  That might be overstating it. “Well, it was us”— I gesture at the Possum who’s staring at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind —“and a few friends of ours.” I hope they’re enjoying that Vermont vacation. “Actually, Clyde and I were the sidekicks.”

  “That’s so cool! I aspire to be a sidekick someday.” The demon slips my card into his back pocket. “Or minion, whatever.”

  He rubs his hands together eagerly. “All right, sweetie pie. It’s a little unorthodox — to say the least — but I’m going to take this one on faith.” Cameron gestures with a gnarled, clawed finger at the fearsome fire, and a clear path appears, leading to the lodge. “Hurry before I change my mind.”

  “Run!” I yell, praying that he’s not toying with us.

  Clyde sweeps me up and leads the others through the charred corridor, surrounded by flames. He’s fully healed, but it’s more than that. I can’t imagine he’s ever moved this fast before, and he’s carrying himself like an Olympian.

  I’m about to say so, when he asks, “Why Yoshi and not me?”

  “What?” The heat is blistering from both sides.

  “I get that you think he’s robust-looking,” Clyde continues. “But we’ve been through a lot together. So I think I deserve to know: Why did you send Paxton with your plan and code words to Yoshi but not me?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. “I told Paxton to talk to both of you.” The Cat probably figured a physically challenged wereopposum wasn’t worth the effort or else Clyde somehow pissed him off, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. “Your code words were ‘Cloud City.’”

  Behind us, Yoshi is bringing up the rear of the group, his hand pressing against his side. Ruby slows to keep pace with him, ready to catch her brother if he goes down.

  “Cloud City?” Clyde grins. “Because Calrissian had an escape plan, even though he had no choice but to pretend to work with the Imperials, just like you in the lodge.”

  “Obviously,” I reply, loving that he so totally gets me.

  As the path disappears behind us, Clyde gently deposits me on the front step. “This may sound like a weird question,” I begin. “But did the snowmen do any dental work on you?”

  “Don’t think so,” he says. “Why?”

  I reply, “Your teeth look different.” Bigger.

  With his back to a raging wall of fire, a winded Yoshi mutters, “If they’re at the dock, we may be able to take them by surprise.”

  Ruby reaches for the knob. “Locked.”

  In no mood to mess around, Brenek simply shoves the door down. The rest of us half dive, half fall inside after him. I hear a cough and an exclamation in Spanish. They’ve managed to get the lights back on.

  In the smoky foyer, the guard-interns greet us at gunpoint, some from the stairs leading up. The one at the top makes the sign of the cross.

  How many of them are here only because they were desperate for a way to send money home to their families? They look young, terrified. I think of their friends who were slaughtered by the vampires — anything to accommodate the clients. The interns are as much captives here as we are. Which in no way means they won’t shoot us.

  Teghan realizes aloud, “We should’ve climbed over the building to the dock.”

  Clyde steps forward with his hands in the air. “Let the others go, and I’ll surrender without a fight. Otherwise, you’ll have to kill us all, and what a waste of an investment. I’m a male Lion. There’s nothing that your masters prize more. Think about it: a hunt with me as your leading man? We’re talking a freaking fortune.”

  What on earth does he think he’s doing? “You’re crazy!” I yell as one of the interns struggles to translate what he just said into Spanish for the others. “Clyde —”

  “Shut up, Aimee!” he replies.

  Is that his idea of last words? I know what the interns are thinking. There may be only one yacht at the dock, but they could always release us, let us have the boat, and radio the snowme
n for pickup.

  I open my mouth to protest that Clyde’s lying and a goofball and a wereopossum and it barely makes sense that he’s able to walk, let alone run with the predators, when his eyes turn burnished gold.

  A GUARD UP FRONT waves my fellow shifters toward the downward stairs. Brenek takes Teghan and goes. I sense that if it weren’t for the kid, he would’ve fought me on this. But it’s like we have an unspoken agreement to protect her.

  The Wolves follow, but Aimee stays because of me, Yoshi because of her, and Ruby because of him. I don’t have time to indulge their BS heroics. “Yoshi.” I wince against the coming shift. “Do me a favor. Take Aimee and your sister out of here.”

  “It’s what he wants,” Yoshi tells me.

  “We should hurry,” Ruby adds.

  “Clyde, no!” Aimee exclaims as the Cats drag her off. “You can’t!”

  I try to tell Aimee it’s the only way, but my throat muscles expand to accommodate a thicker neck, and my mane pours out. Now I can’t talk at all.

  As my hands and feet transform into paws, I catch a last glimpse of Ruby, disappearing down the stairs. I wasted so much energy hating her.

  The air cools, and some of the smoke swirls into Travis, who seems to be trying to manifest. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I do the only thing I can think of to buy him time.

  In Lion form, I collapse in a limp heap and roll my eyes back, playing dead like only a Possum can. For a moment, the guards are stunned.

  Then a gravelly version of Travis’s voice announces, “I am the spirit of Daemon Island.” He drops his jaw open wide like a wraith, creating a vortexlike visual effect. “Your lives belong to me.”

  The guards flee, shrieking — some upstairs, some down the hall — as he bellows again, I think repeating the same thing in Spanish.

  Not that I blame them. Travis is terrifying.

  Wow, he’s having fun.

  As his haunting form swirls above the foyer, I roll to my paws and bound downstairs toward the dock.

  It’s dawn. Only one unconscious arctic asshat and the lifeboats remain.

  Peering out to sea, I spot two larger vessels. Which one is under the command of Aimee and the shifters? Which one is carrying the hairy SOBs?