by Lacey Thorn
Utah looked at her again, and she wanted to scream at him for even believing the nonsense her father’s cousin was spewing. If Utah had paid attention to her as she had to him, he would know the words for the lies they were. She forgot nothing. Ever. Eidetic memory, what most people referred to as photographic memory, ensured there was little information she didn’t retain. Even the things she’d love to forget.
“I’m not your Abby,” she almost hissed, letting her hatred of Harlan show on her face. It was an emotion she couldn’t hide. He’d cost her everything she loved.
“And I was worried about you.” Utah shook his head as he turned from her.
She opened her mouth to remind him how he was in his underwear and that Harlan’s exact words had been, “I thought you got the girl too.” Too. As in also. As in he’d meant to get both of them. But who was she to hit him over the head with what should be obvious. Why, she’d lose her head if it wasn’t attached.
“Sorry you got caught up in our family mess,” Harlan kept talking as he motioned Utah to step out of the cell.
Her whole body tensed as Utah moved to walk out and leave her behind. This was wrong, so wrong. He stepped out from the cell and stood in the open with them. Something was off, she closed her eyes and let her mind see what her eyes weren’t focusing on.
“Utah!” she cried out his name as it registered.
He jerked toward her, and it was the perfect opening for them to strike. Southy and Whiney stepped in and hit him on either side with a stun gun. She screamed as his big body jerked and shook, his eyes going wide. He took a step toward her, reaching out even as he fell.
“No!” She screamed again, moving toward him. Harlan shoved her back, knocking her to her ass and shutting the cell door.
“Pick him up and chain him to the wall.” All pretense of the lazy, easy-going friend of hers was gone. Now he showed his true colors, becoming the cold-blooded psychopath she knew he was.
“Don’t do this, Harlan. Please.”
“You know, I remember the first time you told me about the paka watu,” he said as he watched his men go to work, manacling Utah’s hands and then using the chains to drag him on his back across the floor to the wall across from the cell. “I thought you were the funniest little girl talking about things you had no clue about. Figured you got your love of cats from your mom and dad. God knows that was all they talked about other than you. Those damn cats they loved. Jake was never the same after he married your mother. She never liked me, worked at turning him against me. But I tried to win her over by paying attention to her crazy daughter and her stories of people who shifted into cats. What do you call them?”
“Ailuranthropes,” she whispered, silent tears flowing down her cheeks as they fed the end of the chains through hooks and pulled, until Utah was held with his arms spread wide apart on the wall. They pulled the chains tighter, so his muscles were stretched and straining before attaching them to another hook on the floor.
“Yes. Werecats. Such a funny thing for a child to be interested in.”
They each took one of Utah’s feet and spread his legs until they could lock the cuff at the other end of chain around his ankles. He would be helpless now, completely at their mercy, and she was very afraid Harlan had none.
“I always knew you’d never give up on your dream of finding them.”
“Finding who?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Utah.
“The descendants of the original tribe. It was your fixation.”
“I gave that up a long time ago, Harlan. It’s a legend. A really good one, but a legend nonetheless.”
“You can’t lie to me. I’ve always been such an avid hunter. It’s in the genes.” His laugh was edged with madness, and Abby felt her heart lodge in her throat.
“Then you’re crazier than I thought.”
His eyes were livid. “Go get my tools,” he ordered Southy. “I’m not crazy. I followed you. I’ve been following you for years. I was there when you travelled through Africa, speaking of legends with the local bush people. I may not speak Swahili like you do, but I had a translator.”
“You followed me in Africa?” She’d had no idea he’d been there.
“I’ve followed you since you woke up in the hospital and went to live with your grandmother.” He walked to the cell and leaned against it. A shiver went down her spine at the hate in his eyes. “You should have died. It should have been you. Not Jake. Never Jake.”
“I know.” She agreed with him. Her father would still be alive if he’d just let her die instead, if he’d just loved her a little less, if he’d not been the protective man he was.
“But then we wouldn’t be here having our little reunion.”
Southy’s boots thumped loudly on the stone floor, and Harlan turned from her.
“Did you get everything?” he demanded, and Southy grunted, as he pulled stuff out of the bag he held for Harlan to inspect.
Harlan took the stuff from Southy, and Abby felt the blood drain from her face as she watched. There was a stick that looked like it might shoot an electrical charge, like something they would use on cattle. There was another club that reminded her of a police baton. Then there were the knives and syringes.
“Don’t do this. Whatever you’re thinking, I promise you, you’re wrong.”
“I’m right, Abby. And do you know how I know I’m right?”
She shook her head.
“Because you’re here. The legend says the one who carries the mark of the beast will awaken the lion.” He walked over and pointed the prod at Utah’s tattoo. “The mark of the beast.”
“It’s a tattoo. It’s just a tattoo.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“Oh, God.” She moaned the words as she watched a very dazed Utah start to come around. “Don’t do this. Please, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t do this.”
“You’re going to do whatever I want anyway,” Harlan promised as he turned his full attention to Utah. “So how much do you think he can take before the lion emerges?”
“He’s not the descendent of the pride leader. For God’s sake, he’s white.”
“Not fully,” Harlan argued. “Besides the blood’s been diluted over time. He can’t be expected to be pure still.”
“The alpha lion would have to be pure. Utah can’t be him.”
Harlan looked at her for a moment, and she held her breath, hoping he’d believe her. But after a too brief moment, he smiled and shook his head.
“You’re lying. This is him. You go to the bar he works at every night just to watch him. You don’t even drink. You pretend to look over your papers when instead you watch him. Searching. Watching and waiting for the truth to show itself.”
She shook her head frantically. “It’s a legend, a myth. It isn’t real.”
“All myths are founded in some form of truth. It’s what gives them the longevity to withstand time.”
“No. It’s the fantasy that breaches the span of time. Nothing more.”
“Then why watch? Why focus on him?”
Utah was awake now. Abby could tell, though he kept his eyes almost completely closed. His body was more tense, as if he were testing his bonds.
“I wanted him,” Abby said the only thing Harlan might believe. “I’ve been pretty much stalking him, trying to work up the nerve to ask him out.”
Utah’s head jerked up then, as he looked at her in surprise. That was not what she wanted him to do. Did the man have no sense of self-preservation? But Harlan had stopped and was completely focused on her for the first time.
Then he started shaking his head slowly. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?” she cried out with frustration. “He’s absolutely sexy as hell. What woman wouldn’t want him?”
Harlan glanced back at Utah then back to her. He shook his head again.
“You’re not that type of girl. Look at you. A woman who dresses like you is hiding, not trying to at
tract a man.”
“Thanks,” she muttered unable to hide her hurt, though it was only the truth. “That doesn’t mean I don’t dream about being with a guy like him.”
Utah was just watching her. She hoped he’d appreciate her efforts later if she could just convince Harlan to let him go.
“Not yet. You don’t think like that. I know you.”
He turned from her as if she no longer existed and faced Utah with the prod in his hand. “Let’s see if I can make you roar, lion man.”
* * * *
Utah was barely holding in his screams as the guy named Harlan hit him over and over again. He’d thrown the electric cattle prod aside earlier in favor of the brute force of the police baton. The two yahoos on either side of him were wearing brass knuckles and taking cheap shots at him as well. Blood was trickling down his right side, washing the face of his lion tattoo in red.
Fuck, this hurt.
It didn’t help that Abby was in the cell across from him, screaming and crying. She cared.
God, he felt like the biggest heel in the world. He’d never realized she had a crush on him, and he should have. Why else would she keep coming to the bar night after night? The nachos weren’t that great, and neither was the ambience. It was a roughneck bar where most of the patrons rode Harleys like he did.
He blocked the pain from his mind, focusing on Abby instead. She was cute with her hair in disarray around her. It was longer and thicker than he’d figured, and damn, it’d felt good against his skin earlier when he’d awoken with her in his arms. So had her breasts, her nice full tits she hid so well beneath the big hoodies and sweatshirts she seemed fond of. And that ass had fit in his palms like it was meant for him. Abby had more secrets than just the crazy man trying to kill him. When they made it out of here, he’d make her spill.
He felt the sharp prick of a serrated blade and glanced down to see Harlan tracing the mouth of his lion with its edge.
Fuck, that hurt like a bitch.
“Maybe I need to focus on your spirit guide.” He sliced over Utah’s skin, and this time Utah couldn’t throttle the cry of pain.
Spirit guide? This guy was bat shit crazy.
“Give me one of the stun guns,” Harlan ordered, and one of his goons jumped to get it for him. “I want to hear you fucking roar,” Harlan screamed as he pushed the gun against the tattoo and sent another charge through Utah’s body.
Utah roared. He threw his head back against the wall and roared for all he was worth. If the fuckwad wanted a roar, he’d give him a fucking roar.
“We’re getting there.” The man sounded positively gleeful. “Give me the syringe! Give it to me now. Quickly!”
“No!” Abby screamed across from him. “You’ll kill him, Harlan. For God’s sake! You’ll kill him.”
Harlan turned back to Utah with a syringe full of something in his hand.
Utah thrashed as much as his bonds allowed. Fuck! What was the crazed man going to give him now? He didn’t want to leave Abby unprotected. What would they do to her? Would they torture her like they were him? He roared again, pulling uselessly at the chains.
“Yes! Yes!” Harlan exclaimed and drove the needle deep into Utah’s chest, pressing the plunger down until it was empty.
“Tah!” Abby screamed the nickname he preferred.
He felt a burning in his veins, and this time when he roared, he swore the room shook. He thought he saw a look of shock and terror on Abby’s face. Then everything went black.
Chapter Two
From the journal of Abby Lane
I finally convinced Professor Mueller to accept me into the group heading to Africa! I haven’t been this excited in so long! I wish my parents were here to share in my happiness. I miss them so much. But I refuse to be sad today, even here in my journal. I want to celebrate! I want to jump for joy.
Not only will this be my first anthropological trip, but I’m heading to Africa, the home of the legend that has held me enthralled since I came across it as a child, the paka watu. In my head, I know it is legend, the lore of ages past, people who become great cats can’t possibly exist. But my heart screams differently, and I feel compelled to keep searching as if there is a voice inside me crying out that this is my destiny, crying out I could be the key to waking them.
It is funny considering it was a lion who destroyed my life. Yet, still I love the lion and cast no blame on the species for the act of a lion who was so hurt and wounded, driven by the fear and fever that consumed and sought to kill him.
I will write more when I arrive. I am a last minute addition, and I must pack quickly! Somehow, I know this trip is fated, and that it will change my life!
* * * *
I’m here. Africa. And it is just as beautiful as I imagined. We work long days, but I love every moment. I’ve met some local bushmen, and they’ve invited me to visit. I plan to take them up on it, even though Professor Mueller has expressly forbidden any of us to wander off alone. I’m exhausted and falling asleep as I write this. Hopefully, I will have greater things to share soon.
* * * *
Oh, my God! I’ve found it. I’m almost afraid to confess this here in fear someone may find it, but it is too great to contain inside me. I’ve found what I didn’t even realize I was searching for. The bushmen not only know the legend of the paka watu, but have an oral history of the legend far greater and more in depth than anything I’ve read. Even better…THEY HAVE A NAME! I have a starting point.
The pride leader left his native country on a ship bound for England, under cover of darkness, claiming the identity of a man who would never be leaving Africa.
* * * *
Abby once again found herself kneeling over Utah, trying desperately to wake him. If she felt more fear this time, it was only because of what she still couldn’t believe she’d seen. But there was no time to process it all now. She’d deal with it later, when they were somewhere safe.
“Utah.” She shook his shoulders vigorously, not afraid of waking the dead man who was the only one who still remained with them.
She almost felt sorry for Southy. When Utah had snapped the first chain, Whiney had taken off yelling he wasn’t getting paid to die. Harlan had screamed at him to stop, even as he’d backed away himself. But as another roar rocked the room and the second chain groaned at the force Utah was exerting on it, Harlan had turned and run as well.
Only Southy remained and only because he had the compassion to open the cell door for her. She had no idea what made him do the right thing in the end. Whatever it was, it had cost him his life.
She shuddered as the crystal clear vision of Utah exploding off the wall filled her mind, broken chains hanging from his wrists and ankles. Southy had been reaching for her hand when Utah grabbed him. Had the man meant to help her or use her as a shield against Utah? She’d have to figure that out later, when shock wasn’t trying to shut her down.
Utah had flung the man hard against the wall he’d just torn free of. Then he’d crouched in front of her growling. Southy had taken one look at Utah’s face and backed away in fear.
What the hell had they shot into Utah? She swore his eyes were completely golden, instead of the warm brown they usually were. What was happening to him? Part of her was screaming she knew exactly what was happening. She’d known, and it had terrified her, even as it had excited her.
“Utah.” She slapped him across the face, trying to wake him. Southy’s blood was creeping across the floor toward them as it flowed from where his throat had been ripped out…ripped out by Utah’s bare hands.
She’d screamed Utah’s name, making him turn as Southy dropped soundlessly to the floor. Utah’s face and chest were splattered with blood, so much blood. The hot metallic smell of it seemed to cover him. His eyes flashed brown, gold, brown, as he shook his head and took a step toward her.
“Abby.” Her name had been a mere whisper as he fell, losing consciousness at the most inconvenient time.
She had no idea
where Harlan and Whiney had run off to, no idea if or when they might be coming back. She had to get Utah up and going now. She didn’t have a clue where they were. She’d ripped her sweatshirt over her head and used it to towel off the majority of blood from Utah. If there were people outside, it wouldn’t be good to let them see him covered. He’d killed a man, and it wouldn’t matter that he had only been defending himself, not with the vicious way he’d killed Southy.
Utah moaned.
“Utah, please wake up. Wake up. We need to go.”
His eyes flickered open, and she almost sighed in relief at the beautiful warm brown orbs that greeted her. He was back.
“Abby?”
“We have to go, Utah.” She tugged at him, urging him to rise. “They’re gone. We need to get out of here before they come back.”
He glanced slowly around as he sat up. His eyes locked on Southy and he winced. “Jesus. What the fuck? Why’d they do that?”
She just shook her head. He wasn’t ready to hear the truth, and she wasn’t prepared to tell him yet. There were too many explanations that needed to be shared first. Besides, she needed Utah calm and in control to help them get out of here. Telling him, “oh, by the way, you did that,” wasn’t going to accomplish that.
“We have to go!” She let the fear fill her voice and eyes, and if a little of it was directed at him as well now, she’d deal with that later.
He snapped to attention, standing and pulling her up with him. She took his hand and tugged him in the direction she’d watched Harlan run off.
“This way. We have to be careful, Utah. This is the way they went.”
He took the lead, using his broad body to hide hers, forming a shield to protect her. She’d imagined him often as her protector, but never in a situation like this, never with her actually in danger.
“Stay behind me. No matter what you hear. Stay behind me.” He led them around the corner and up the stairs, moving much quieter in his bare feet than she did in her boots.
