by Lexy Timms
She looked and him. Looked at Taylor’s retreating back. Looked back at Manchester, and in that moment resigned with a single raised finger. The look on Manchester’s face was worth the loss of her job.
Hell, I’ve already quit. I can’t imagine how a lion can be an acting doctor anyway. That’s got to violate some kind of sanitary guidelines at the least.
She was becoming giddy. Lightheaded from hunger and fatigue.
Melinda was still getting away.
Angelica turned and headed after Taylor. She burst out of the camp proper and headed for the administration building. She’d lost Taylor entirely; whether or not he’d lost Melinda, there was no way of knowing. But she hadn’t passed them, and the clinic was next to the administration building, so it was the most logical option.
A door slammed somewhere. Angelica followed the sound. She pelted around the corner of the building and staggered to stop. There was no one in sight, and no doors to account for what she’d heard. She looked around. The wall next to her was unbroken but for a handful of windows, all securely shut.
Cautious now, she walked slowly to the wall. Now, what? Check for hidden doors? Secret panels? She leaned against the cool brick wall and rubbed her face. The gun in her belt dug into her hip and she had to shift to release the pressure.
“Well, good morning, Dr. Truman.” Dr. Webb came around the corner of the building, a cigar clutched loosely between two fingers. “Fine time for a stroll, if I do say.”
“Dr. Webb,” Angelica turned, still trying to catch her breath, to get her bearings. He was in danger being by the building. If Melinda had a gun, or Taylor had to shift... “What are you doing out here?”
He held up the cigar. “It’s a very bad habit, I fear. You see, I got addicted some years back and, well, a doctor who smokes? Unheard of. Scandalous. So I wander off once in a while and enjoy my little slice of decadence unobserved.”
“Have you seen Melinda? Dr. Johns?”
“Oh my, yes.” Dr. Webb’s smile was distracted. Benign. “Many times.”
“I mean recently.”
“I did, now that you mention it. I have indeed.”
“Do you know where she is?” She shoved her hair back up off her sweaty forehead. Her fingers twitched a little. This is why I don’t like guns. I’m one more stupid answer away from shooting him.
“No, I don’t. But I can tell that just a few moments ago she was heading for the other entrance around this corner. In quite a hurry, too, didn’t even—”
Angelica started to go around him, but he reached out and caught her arm.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
She tried to shake him off, but his grip was surprisingly strong. “Excuse me?”
“You’re chasing her, like that super-sized reporter you’re engaged to. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You don’t really want to go after her.”
“Dr. Webb!” Angelica tried to calm her frustration. She pulled her arm again. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look,” Dr. Webb pointed to a large tree branch that was lying on the ground nearby. Leftover, from pruning the trees back from the building. “If you would be so kind as to give me a minute.” He waddled over to it and hefted it, jamming the cigar between his teeth. His speech became harder to decipher through clenched jaws.
The stick had once been a bough from one of the common jungle growths that ranged around the building. It was four feet long and about as thick around as her fist. He picked up one end and proclaimed. “AHA! See?”
Angelica never saw the swing coming. She should have, but she didn’t. Somehow it had never occurred to her that the rather innocuous Dr. Webb would hurt her. The bough connected to her temple hard enough to crumple her to ground. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen. The second blow was almost overkill.
The ground came up to meet her and she planted her face firmly in the soft grass. Her last conscious thought was that she felt something wet dripping down her face.
Blood. Skin split. Concussion, swelling. Can cause... death.
Chapter 23
Taylor slowed cautiously as he ran around the corner. Training and hard experience had taught him that blind corners were dangerous ones. He drew his pistol and lay against the wall, catching his breath, taking time to check behind him. Crouching, he spun around the corner gun first and realized that extra precaution had cost him. He’d lost her in the darkness.
This body has no nose. Why can’t you smell her?
Pointing out crossly that his senses were considerably enhanced for a human, Taylor considered the options. In an instant, Taylor knew exactly where she was heading. The only thing out past this point was where the earthmovers had been parked. What the hell is she running there for? Taking several steps forward confirmed his suspicions. He scented her easily, the hint of fear spiked with adrenaline. He pointed this out rather smugly to the tiger, who only snorted and pointed out the obvious.
I can run faster.
Taylor considered this as he ran. As the cat, he could catch her. But the cat could only kill. To bring her to any kind of trial or justice he needed his hands, his arms, the gun. To change back when he caught up to her meant confronting her naked and unarmed.
I’m gaining on her. He poured his strength into his legs, making up the time spent at the corner of the building. She pelted through the open clearing and barely made it to the copse of trees, Taylor a half-step behind her.
He skidded to a halt when he saw her. She was red-faced, out of breath and shaking. There were two planks that had been laid over the hole into which Batu’s body had been tossed. They had apparently used that as a platform to retrieve the body. She was bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath on one of the planks.
“Mr.....” she gasped. “Mann. You’re not even... winded... Is that typical... of your... kind....?” She swayed and leaned dangerously over the edge of the plank.
Taylor gingerly stepped onto the plank, his gun pointed into the air. He thumbed the safety on. “Doctor, you need to come with us.”
“So sorry.” She smiled and tried to straighten, though she stood slowly and with no small amount of difficulty. She caught herself as the wood creaked dangerously under their weight.
Taylor simply stepped to the other plank. It was more than sufficient for his big frame.
“Thank you!” Melinda said with a bright smile. “That was very kind of you, I don’t do well with heights. Tell me, is compassion possible with your kind? It’s not something often demonstrated in the wild. I have been so wrapped up in finding the medical causes for your change that I have completely overlooked the opportunity to learn about a brand-new species.” Her eyes were bright and shone in the reflected moonlight.
Taylor reached for her, took her arm in his free hand. “Doctor,” he said quietly. “Please. Come with me.”
Melinda looked into the morning sky and sighed. She shifted on the wood, making Taylor tighten his grip to keep her from falling. “My goodness. You know what just occurred to me? You see, your Angelica. Dr. Truman, she was... is... my crowning achievement. She shifted and changed back again. The first to do so. I’m so proud. What we could have learned just by observing, by keeping creatures like you in a stable habitat and just watching you interact. Your mores, your courtships, your death rituals. It just isn’t my line of expertise.” She looked up at him, pleading for understanding. “You know?” Her hand came up. Something glinted in the early morning light.
Taylor took a deep breath and screamed. He brought his hands to his eyes, blinded, in great pain. Melinda lowered the can of pheromones. “I hope you can forgive me for letting so much of the science slip through my fingers.”
As Taylor fell, he instinctively grabbed the edge of the plank as his lower half dangled over the pit below.
DON’T CHANGE!
I CAN’T STOP.
NO! Both man and cat screamed the word, but it came out as a hollow roar. Taylor began to shift, wri
thing this time, not only in pain but to maintain his balance on the beam across the gulf. He dug his claws into the wood and hung on for dear life.
Melinda hadn’t moved. She’d crouched down on her plank and watched him change. The cat snarled up at her.
She dies.
No! Wait, she can’t...
The plank beneath the cat, while suitable for Taylor, wasn’t built for a 700-+-pound tiger. It splintered under him and the cat yowled as it fell, landing in brackish water and mud. He roared from the improvised trap, still bound up in the clothing he’d worn. His belt and pants nearly killed him before he could tear them off.
I have nothing to change into now.
On the other hand, I’ll probably die first.
“Mr. Mann,” Melinda said, reaching carefully forward and picking something up that lay at her feet. His gun. His own fucking gun. It had to have landed there when he fell. She raised it now, carefully balancing on the board, holding it so hard that her knuckles turned white. “I don’t know if you can understand me the way that Dr. Truman did. Is that species-specific, or the fact that Dr. Truman is better educated? I suppose I may never know that either.” She sighed and shook her head. “I am terrible sorry, Mr. Mann. You were such a fine specimen. I may never find another.”
She pointed the gun at Taylor’s head and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 24
Vision brought pain. Even though it was still dark, using her eyes brought a sharpness to the back of her brain that promised to be one hell of a headache.
“Oh, my!” Dr. Webb exclaimed and fell on his ass, trying to back away from her. He’d bound her wrists with bandage tape. It was something doctors and nurses carried with them habitually and probably the only thing he had to use. A strip of tape is brittle and snaps easily, but use enough, especially when there’s no leverage to pry against, and it’s as effective as rope.
Apparently, the good doctor had been carrying a fresh roll.
The blow to her head was still making her ears ring. At least he’d tied her hands in front of her. He blinked owlishly and pushed himself backward, sliding on his butt like a child. When he was far enough away, he scrambled to his feet.
“Please don’t try to call for help,” he said, and began patting his pockets as if he’d forgotten something. He put a finger to his lips and mumbled, “Oh my, oh my...” several times while searching the ground around her. “Ah-ha!” He snapped his fingers and trotted along behind her, reaching for something on the ground.
He returned carrying a pistol. Hers. His hand shook so badly she was afraid that it would go off on him accidentally.
“Please, as I say, don’t call for help, Doctor. The local constabulary is, well, let’s say that they would take my side on this; if nothing else, at least on this...”
“You’re working with Melinda?” Angelica asked through gritted teeth. It hurt like hell to talk, but she needed to keep him busy while she worked the tape on her wrists. Besides, she hadn’t seen it coming. She seriously hadn’t seen it coming and needed the confirmation from his own lips. None of this made sense.
“Melinda?” He blinked again. “Dr. Johns?” He looked around as though someone else could take that question. “I...I work with her at the clinic, same as you. Why?”
“I don’t mean Meadowlark!” Angelica snapped. Webb flinched as if he thought she would hit him. “I mean her experiments.”
“Experiments?” he repeated dumbly. “What...what experiments?”
“Doing experimental DNA testing on living humans!”
“What?” Webb reeled back. He couldn’t be faking this reaction. He was genuinely appalled, his eyes wide with shock and horror. “That’s...that’s monstrous!”
Angelica thought a moment. Not the answer she’d expected. What was she missing? What about the thing he’d said about the authorities being on his side? Durand? She took a chance. “As opposed to slavery?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Please...” he said slowly. “You have to understand. It was Durand. He blackmailed me. I...I thought I was doing right, doing what we came here to do, you and, though I assume you, but most certainly I...I came here to help, to restore, to ensure health...” He was looking at her now, his eyes pleading for her to forgive him.
Which would have been hilarious had he not been staring at her with a gun pointed at her head.
“Durand had a group, children all, mostly girls. They were all so scared... just because I was a doctor. He said that...that they were all from the same place, the same village...” Webb was beginning to babble. He seemed almost relieved to talk about it. “I helped them, though they didn’t seem to have much in the way of physical problems. I did help them. And then they were gone... and then...” He closed his eyes. “Durand insisted on giving me a ‘bonus’. Extra money. I said no, it was my job, but he wanted this exam off the record...” Webb’s arm fell to his side. The gun pointed to the dirt. “I needed the money. I...I can’t practice in the States anymore... I need the money to start over, to get out of here... I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know.”
The tape held. It was too strong, as much as he’d used. She looked at it and at the waist of her pants. The top button had come open. She wasn’t sure if it happened as she fell or if his search for her gun had taken a creepier direction, but the fact worked for her. She felt new rage course through her body. Rage that she could use.
“Dr. Webb,” she said, her voice icy. “Release me.”
He stared at her from ten feet away, confused. A little man in a little world that had suddenly gotten too big for him to understand. “How can I? If I let you go, he’ll kill me.”
“Durand’s already dead,” she said, spitting out the words. “And the man with him. The children are scattered to the wind. And every last one of those children is going to testify against you, Dr. Webb. I can promise you that.”
Webb paled and sniffled. His eyes darted around him in every direction as though he was sure that police were in front and behind him already. “I didn’t... It wasn’t...”
She stared him down. Silent. Unforgiving.
With a shriek he pointed the gun at her again, his fingers fumbling with the trigger. If the safety hadn’t been on he might have shot by accident. As it was he dropped it, and stared at it a moment, lying at his feet, before running off into the night.
Angelica lay still. Tied. Pissed. Wondering where the hell Taylor was, and whether he was having any better luck than she was.
She sighed. She could see only one way out of this.
Fine, then. What’s it like to be a cat during the day?
SHE LAY THERE A MOMENT and began the shift. She regretted the decision when the tape wouldn’t give way. She was afraid that it might slice into her, it was too tight for the lioness. The pain began to exceed the pain of the change and she had to clamp her teeth down against it. Writhing, biting back screams that would bring the wrong kind of attention at a point when she was most vulnerable, she tried to relax, to accept the change. Just when she didn’t think she could last another moment, the tape snapped and she rolled to her feet.
All four of them.
She heard a roar from the distance. It sounded like it came from the edge of the jungle, from the place where the equipment had been. Where Batu’s body had been stashed. She looked at the pistol on the ground and sighed internally. She was going to need it and she had a horrible feeling that the safety might not have been on after all. Gingerly she picked it up between her teeth, holding the grip awkwardly, letting the barrel hang downward.
She ran.
She pelted as fast as she could, no longer caring about the taste of gun oil or the risk she took by running through rough terrain with a loaded pistol in her mouth. All that mattered was getting to Taylor. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the copse and slipped through the trees.
Melinda was half-lying, half-kneeling on a wooden plank that stretched out over the hole Batu had been dropped into. There were the broken r
emains of another like it beside her. She was aiming a gun down into the pit.
One that looked suspiciously like the one she carried in her mouth.
Taylor!
As a cat, Angelica could smell Taylor in the brackish water, knew he was in tiger form. Every instinct made her want to charge the woman, but she knew that since the other board hadn’t held Taylor there was no reason to think this one would hold her.
Melinda staggered to her feet and pulled the trigger. Or tried to. She looked at the gun from the side.
“Mr. Mann,” Melinda called, her voice high-pitched, even coquettish. “What’s wrong with the safety? Your gun appears to not be working.”
There was no answer.
“Wait.” She fiddled around with it. “Got it.” She brought the gun down and fired.
Taylor cried out, a wild angry roar that could only be the tiger. There came a crashing sound, the sound of a body splashing in the water and lying still.
Angelica roared and couldn’t stop screaming, even as she changed, even as she rose from the brush and landed on the plank, ripping the gun out of Melinda’s hand. Even as she emptied the pistol into Melinda. Frantic, furious, with more bloodthirsty rage than she’d ever have thought possible, she glared as Melinda fell, body dancing under the rain of bullets, her lips parting, giving her a look of wide-eyed surprise.
Angelica caught her as she fell, kept her body from tumbling into the chasm below. The board was more than enough to support her as a naked human.
“You!” Melinda spat when she saw Angelica lean over her, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.” And the light in Melinda’s eyes went out.
Taylor spluttered from below her. Very angry, and very much human.
“TAYLOR!”
“I’m okay,” he said, climbing awkwardly from the muck and leaning against the edge of the pit. “It’s okay. She’s a lousy shot. It hit my hip, but the change...” He shook his head. “I’m okay.”
