by Sharon Green
I considered the problem for a minute or so, then I reached a finger though one of the squares and touched the long bar holding the door closed. Moving the bar proved to be really easy, but all that did was bring the bar-handles closer to the grating. All…
I had to squeeze my pinkies through two of the openings in the grate, after which I extended the claws on both hands. Then I had to hurt myself a little to let the claws reach the bar-handles. A normal human might not have had the strength in their small fingers to move the handles, and an ordinary shapeshifter might not have been able to use her claws. But I did. Pulling down and pushing up wasn't easy, but a minute after the try I was crawling out through the now-open gate.
After standing up I got rid of the claws and rubbed my pinky fingers while looking around. I seemed to be in some kind of warehouse that might be abandoned, an idea caused by the presence of only occasional dark shapes in the dimness. About twenty feet away was another carrier like the one I'd just gotten out of, and I could see a dark shape inside the thing. I had no intentions of investigating what the shape was, but as I moved slowly and quietly on a diagonal away from the carrier a sound made me stop short.
A sound… It wasn't quite a whine, more like a moan of distress filled with need, and it came from inside the carrier. It was almost as if the shape in the carrier was asking for my help, with the moaning containing a wordless cry of please!… please!… please!
The sigh forced out of me was also wordless, but the sound announced that I was a fool for not just walking away. But I couldn't just walk away, not when I knew how I'd felt trapped inside my own carrier. I had to free whoever or whatever was a captive inside there, otherwise I'd never forgive myself.
So I moved closer to the carrier, wondering why I wasn't getting a familiar scent from its contents. The scent I did get was kind of nice, faintly sweet and pleasant, like nothing I'd ever smelled before. It wasn't clear why that was, and seeing the big dog inside the carrier didn't do anything to clarify. As far as I could tell the dog was a Rottweiler, and his serious, dark eyes were directly on me. And, strangely enough, he didn't seem to be afraid of me. Maybe his captors had done something to his sense of smell, which was a really lucky break. For both of us.
"Okay, okay, I'll get you out of there," I whispered to my new companion. "But as soon as you're free you'd better find the way out of here and not come back. I can hear what sounds like dogs on the other side of this place, and if you do come back you could end up captured again."
That was the point I realized I was talking to a dog, so I quit doing it. Instead I put my finger to my lips to show I wanted silence, then I half turned and pointed to what looked like the way out beyond the carrier I'd been in. My big friend seemed to understand the gestures, so I opened the carrier using my hands instead of claws and pinkies. As soon as the door was open the Rottie jumped out, looked at me with a grin as if to say thank you, then he took off in the direction I'd pointed to. He also just about disappeared into the dark shadows all around, which let me go back to walking in the direction I'd started out in.
The place was really big as well as being dimly dark, and it took a few minutes before I reached what looked like a small trailer. The trailer was not only mostly windows, it was also very well lit. The left-side end of the thing had a wide window that was propped open, showing a desk and chair positioned not far away. But it was the window on the right of the trailer that showed me a pacing man, someone I recognized after a moment.
The "drunken bum" I'd seen outside Rolfe's store… The pacing man had cleaned himself up some, but there was no doubt I was looking at the same person. And a person who was very clearly agitated about something, an agitation that seemed to be increasing as the minutes moved past him. Before seeing the man I'd intended to bypass the trailer, but now I changed my mind.
There was an uneven stack of boxes to my right, only a few feet away from the trailer but part of the dark, which made the stack the perfect place to hide. I climbed part way up the stack and squatted down, letting the box I was near and the deep dark keep my presence unnoticed. The pacing man just kept pacing, his movements growing more jerky and agitated as the time went by, and then a door on the far side of the trailer opened and another man entered.
"Where were you?" the pacing man demanded from where he'd stopped, his voice rough with anxiety. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting?"
"I was with my people who are caring for the dogs," the newcomer answered without looking at the other man, calmly heading for the chair behind the desk. "If I want the money we'll be getting from the fights, I have to pay attention to the details. What's gotten you so wild, and what are these things you've put on my desk?"
"Those things are what I took off that female shifter, her phone and a holder with a credit card, driver's license and some cash," the pacer, no longer moving in the same way, answered. "I put her in an empty cage on the far side of this place, but I don't know how long she'll be unconscious. You said you wanted her, but didn't say what you wanted done with her. If she wakes up before I get back there – "
"If she wakes up she'll just have to live with waiting for you," the seated man interrupted with a chuckle. "She certainly won't be able to get out of that cage, so why are you getting so wild? And what I wanted with her was to make sure she was here before we … put her out of her misery. I like having bodies I can see when the need comes to have the body made. Once she's gone her friends will get the message and butt out of my business. Do you expect to have any trouble putting her down?"
"She's a female in a cage, what trouble could I have?" the pacer asked with a dismissive shrug. "But you should have told me you wanted her dead, then I wouldn't have had to get that kid to bash her in the head with a piece of pipe. I could have broken her neck then and there before bringing the body back for you."
"Well, done is done, so why worry about it?" the seated man asked with a smile in his voice as he relaxed back in his chair. "Go and take care of her, and then bring me the body I want to look at."
"You got it," the pacer agreed, and then he turned and left the trailer by the door the other man had used to enter. I stayed unmoving in my spot in the dark until the man's footsteps faded away into the distance, and then I climbed down again and went to that nicely open window behind the man in the chair.
It took a little more effort than usual to jump up, step through the window, and use a knifehand on the back of the man's neck, but in spite of the continuing ache in my head I managed it. The man had started to turn when he heard me coming in, but he was a normal. His partial turn hadn't saved him, and I didn't waste any time staring down at my handiwork. The first thing I did was pick up my new phone, turn it on, and press the key that connected me with Eric.
"Taz, where are you?" Eric demanded immediately, his voice less than even. "We're on the way to the place your phone is, but we don't know what's happening."
"I've been kidnapped, but there isn't any time to tell you why," I answered quickly and softly. "I'm in some kind of warehouse, and you'll need the police before you break in here. And tell them not to use any sirens. If you all come in quietly, you should have quite a few people to arrest."
"The police are already on their way, and so are some of Allison's people," Eric responded. "We're only a couple of minutes from getting to you, so hang in there."
"Will do," I agreed before saying goodbye and turning off the phone. Then I took my card holder and put it back in my pocket, followed by the phone.
Looking around while on the phone had showed me a roll of duct tape, so I went and got it and secured my prisoner. Taping his wrists to the chair arms didn't take long, and neither did connecting him by one ankle to a desk drawer. The drawers had catches that needed to be pressed for the drawers to open, which left the man "chained" in place.
After that I went to the door the shapeshifter had used and stepped outside the trailer. I knew there wouldn't be much time before the shifter came back, but I hadn
't been able to find anything in the way of a weapon in the trailer. I'd ignored the pain in my head and the slowness of my movements to do what had to be done, but that doesn't mean I wasn't aware of those things. There had to be something in the way of a weapon for me to use-
But there wasn't enough time to look for the weapon even if one was there. As I looked around I sensed movement to my left and dived aside, an effort that kept the shifter from slashing me with the knife he held. The weapon wasn't as big as my altered Bowie knife, but it was a switchblade and big enough to end almost anyone. The shifter's teeth were bared in a snarl of rage, a snarl that increased when he missed his target.
One hand on the floor helped me keep my balance, but it also brought me awareness of something else. The outside of my fingers touched a length of wood, but when I grabbed the length and straightened I found it wasn't quite the weapon I'd been looking for. The wood was no more than two by two, its length about three feet or so, a size I could have broken without trouble. The shifter with the knife was a lot bigger than me, which meant he was also stronger. Not to mention the knife he held…
"Stand still, female, or I'll kill you slow instead of quick," the former bum growled as he circled to get a better angle of attack. "I don't know how you got out of that cage, but you won't be getting out of this."
"You're wasting your time, fool," I responded, doing a bit of circling of my own. "The police are on their way along with my teammates, so your bigshot boss is done. If you don't want to go down with him you'd better head on out of here right now."
"Teammates?" the fool echoed, a frown now keeping the growl in his voice company. "What in hell are you talking about?"
"I'm part of a rogue-hunting team," I answered, making sure not to give him an opening he could use. "That means you're done even if you manage to kill me. My teammates will hunt you down no matter where you try to hide, and that will be the end of you. Play it smart and get out of here instead, and you just might live to screw up another day."
He snarled again and swiped at me with the knife, coming closer than I liked due to the way my reflexes had slowed down. I avoided the swipe and the next two, and then his attack stopped abruptly due to a sound out in the darkness of the warehouse.
A sound… There are ordinary snarls and growls that shapeshifters are very familiar with, but the snarl we heard right then was about ten times worse than the usual. I had no idea what had made a sound like that, but it wasn't hard to decide that I didn't want to know what it was. The shifter near me tried to hide his expression, but it was perfectly clear that he felt the same way I did. No interest in finding what had made that sound, no interest in it at all.
The shifter came at me with his knife again, and happily this time his heart wasn't really in the effort. I had only a little trouble avoiding the slash, using my length of wood to move the knife past me, and then, suddenly, there was something swirling around the shifter's head. He jumped back with an exclamation and tried to knife the swirling shape, but only managed to hit himself in the nose with the back of his hand. By that time I knew exactly what was swirling around him, and all I could do was grin. Of course it would be George who found me first, and that said the others wouldn't be far behind.
Not to mention that we could hear shouting going on in another part of the warehouse. The police had also arrived, and there was lots of yelling and running and shouting going on.
The shifter didn't know what was happening with the swirl in front of him, but it didn't take him long to decide he wanted no more part of it than he'd already had. And he also must have been able to hear the bedlam in the distance. He broke away and ran off into the darkness, which let George form up in front of me.
"Taz, are you all right?" George demanded, his gaze searching all over me. "You aren't bleeding, but you don't seem all that solidly on your feet."
"My head is hurting and my reflexes are dead, but other than that I'm fine," I said, trying to smile and banish his worry. "But why did you swirl at him instead of trying your newest trick?"
"You mean putting myself inside him?" George returned, an odd expression on his face. "I actually tried to do that, but for some reason I couldn't manage it. There's something … repulsive about that man, Taz, something really wrong about him, and something kept me out of his body. I don't know what's wrong and what stopped me, but –"
George's words broke off as Eric, Amiol, some police, and a few plainclothes men hurried over.
"One of them ran that way," George told the horde, gesturing in the direction the shifter had gone. "I think we should –"
For the second or third time George was interrupted, but this interruption froze the blood inside all of us who were still living. The scream we heard was filled with terror to begin with, and then the scream changed to a shriek of extreme pain. No one moved even after the sound abruptly cut off, not for a large number of seconds. Then one of the police detectives stirred and looked at his associates.
"We really do need to find out what happened," he said, his voice showing how unhappy he was with that fact. "Let's go take a look, but we'll move carefully."
"You might want to wait another minute or so," Eric said, drawing their attention. "George has gone to look into what happened, and you'd be smart to wait until we hear from him."
"And I have another prisoner for you," I put in before they could decide to move away into the darkness anyway. "The man in this trailer is the one who sent that shapeshifter after me, and I heard him tell his thug to kill me. Not to mention the fact that he's involved with all those dogs. That should be enough to arrest the man and hold him for a while."
"We'll take care of him as soon as we find out what happened to his associate," the detective who had spoken earlier assured me. "Until then – "
"No rush in going after that other one," George said as he materialized in front of us again. "I have no idea what happened, but the man won't be running off ever again. He's been torn to shreds, and the result isn't in the least pretty."
"Did you see whatever did the shredding?" the detective asked at once. "Any chance it's still there, waiting for more victims?"
"That's one of the things bothering me," George answered, his tone and expression clearly disturbed. "I got there really fast, only seconds after the man died, but there wasn't anything to show who or what killed him. There was a … mist of some kind around the scene to begin with, and when it cleared there was nothing and no one around. I'm not used to having things like mist keep me from seeing whatever there is to see, which means I'd really like to know what's going on."
"You and all the rest of us," Eric said as "the rest of us" just stood staring at George. "For my own part, I'd like to get Taz to Art so he can look her over. She feels … hurt, to me."
I thought about arguing that idea, but the slowness of my thinking said that Eric might be right. And it was getting harder to stand up straight. Adrenaline keeps you going while you're in danger and during a fight, but once it wears off…
"Yes, you do need to get the lady to a doctor," the detective said after looking at me kind of intensely. "Ron, take a couple of the uniforms and arrest the guy in the trailer while the rest of us go and see what happened to the runner. If we need to get in touch with you, Ms. Bell, we know how to reach you."
I gave the man a small nod, and then I discovered that Eric and Amiol were on either side of me, sort of holding me up. I wanted to tell them I didn't need the help, but lying would have been stupid. We walked slowly back the way everyone had come, and when I reached the other end of the warehouse I could see what was going on.
"Dog fights," I said, seeing all the cages and the "arena" the dogs were put into, not to mention the other paraphernalia. "These slimy losers are holding dog fights."
"Were holding dog fights," Eric said, as much disgust in his voice as had been in mine. "Right now the slimy losers are under arrest, and the dogs will be sent to a place that will de-program them. If I was the judge presiding over th
e trial of these so-called humans, I'd sentence the fools to the same thing they put those dogs through. See how much they like fighting for their lives while sickos watch and laugh."
"That should be done to every piece of slime who uses animals like that," I managed to get out. "Including the ones doing cock fights."
"I'm happy to say that that's something my people don't get involved with," Amiol said as we headed for what seemed to be the way out. "If some of my people want to fight, they do it themselves."
"That's the way everyone is supposed to handle the matter," Eric said, his tone still grim. "If you force animals to do the fighting, you're nothing but a coward and a lowlife. And if you pay to watch that kind of fight, you're even worse. If no one paid to watch, these losers would have to get real jobs."
There was nothing to say to that, not when I agreed completely, so we continued outside in silence. A lot of men, all of them handcuffed, had been herded together, probably to wait for transportation. Our own car wasn't far at all, and inside Freemont and Oldon waited for us.
"I think Taz will do better sitting back here," Freemont said once we were close enough and he'd stepped outside the car. "And for some reason I get the impression that Eric needs to be in charge for a while."
"I appreciate that, my friend, because I get the same impression," Eric answered without the least hesitation. "I'll sit in back with Taz and Oldon while you drive, and I think we need to be sure that no one can follow us, Amiol. Can you do that?"
"Certainly," Amiol answered, also without hesitation. "And after that I'll call Art to tell him we're coming."
During the short conversation I'd been urged to get into the car and shift over to the middle, something Oldon helped me do. Eric followed me onto the seat before closing his door, and then Freemont and Amiol were also inside. I noticed all that distantly, almost like in a dream, and then Eric put his hand to my arm.
"Taz, you need to drop your shield and link with me," Eric said softly, shaking my arm just a little. "Do you hear me? I can't reach you, so you have to do the linking."
