Owl and the Tiger Thieves

by Kristi Charish

  I winced and looked away at the echoing snap of the woman’s neck breaking like a twig. A bright red backpack with a white aid cross landed inches from my feet.

  “There have to be half a dozen of them at least. That makes an entire troop,” Artemis said, pointing to three more skin walkers who appeared from behind the now-empty school bus.

  A bus full of passport-carrying professionals—the coveted accoutrement for globe-trotting skin walkers everywhere.

  I watched the two medical students who’d managed to escape the first wave of attack abandon their sand dune and slide under the school bus—the cover of the bus being too much of a temptation, especially since the skin walkers had already gutted it of people. They were the last—all the people they’d counted as friends now reduced to a handful of memories and uric acid–soaked hides in a matter of minutes.

  Three skin walkers without human skins were headed towards them, their jaundice-colored yellow bodies deceptively frail and thin as they lurched across the sand.

  A sinking feeling formed in my stomach. It wasn’t as though I’d spoken to them or they’d even seen me on the bus, but I knew who they were.

  “It’s like the damned Pied Piper all over again,” Artemis offered. “You know why the Pied Piper traveled with droves of children? Because they were the preferred food for trolls and he wanted to make sure he had enough to pay his way through the gates.”

  He was right, though this time it was much too close for me to see the gallows humor. “There has to be something we can do—you’re a damned supernatural!”

  “I’m an incubus—and not even Rynn could do anything against an entire troop on their home turf. He always waited to deal with them one at a time. Look, it’s too late.”

  Like jackals rather than the humans they were wearing, the two in the lead narrowed in on the bus. They stayed still.

  Come on, come on—stay still, moving will get you killed . . .

  Two more skin walkers appeared without their skins, their lean yellow bodies moving more like a desert insect’s than anything close to human—or even mammalian. That is, except their human eyes, which were all their own, in varying colors—completely human—and their almost human teeth.

  One of the skin walkers, having caught the familiar scent, began to sniff around the wheel. The other quickly joined him. I couldn’t see the two med students, but that didn’t keep me from smelling the sweat dripping from them, an olfactory advertisement pinpointing their location.

  They were out of sight, though. If they just stayed where they were . . .

  When I was a little girl and traveling with my anthropologist father, every time we were in a new place, I convinced myself that there were monsters hiding under my bed. I would lie perfectly still, hoping they wouldn’t see me, and I remember just how hard it had been not to run screaming from my room.

  When the skin walkers, absent human skins, dropped on all fours near the bus wheel, those two didn’t stand a chance.

  They bolted for the road.

  “Not the road, you idiots!” Artemis whispered beside me. Before I could think, I started for them, not knowing exactly what I would do.

  Artemis stopped me. “There are too many.”

  He was right. And I hated him all the more for it.

  I had to look away as the skin walkers picked them off. I’d seen horrible things, been beaten to a pulp by vampires, been chased by mummies, zombies, dead pirates; it wasn’t the same thing as seeing a defenseless person rendered before my very eyes.

  Artemis didn’t give me much time to process the images I’d just seen. “Come on, into the jeep.” He abandoned his hiding spot and headed for it.

  “I thought you said we’d be sitting ducks,” I said, turning my anger at the skin walkers on him.

  “It’s better to be moving ducks while there are still sitting ducks left.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  He spun on me. “Deadly.” At my expression he made a face. “The underdog is only a hero in fairy tales; here, they’re martyrs. Keep your head down.” He pulled me after him and shoved me into the passenger side before hopping in himself. “I’m hoping they stay distracted while they feed.”

  He turned the key. Nothing happened. Not even a sputter. He frowned and began hitting the fuel gauge. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He took out a lighter to see the dashboard. “The assholes siphoned the gas!”

  “I thought you were supposed to watch them!”

  “I was—and they were all over there, ergo, so was I.”

  A guttural laugh cut him off. On his side of the jeep with the door open was a bare skin walker, smelling of urea, his yellow skin looking even more sickly under the minimal moonlight.

  Artemis froze, but only for a moment. He kicked at the skin walker as it tried to pull him out of the jeep.

  I glanced back at the others. It was only a matter of time before we attracted attention.

  I don’t know why Captain chose that moment to leap onto the hood of the jeep, but then again I’m never entirely certain why he decides to do anything. Whatever had inspired him, he laid back his ears, raised his hackles, and bared his teeth with a hiss that could only come out of a vampire-hunting cat.

  It wasn’t that Captain was a danger to the skin walker—far from it—but when a twenty-pound cat leaps onto a car hood with its ears back and fangs out, well, he was startling enough to make a Naga jump. Not that it would do us much good . . .

  Artemis still had his lighter out.

  I grabbed it and struck it three times until the flint lit the flame. A skin walker hide is incredibly dry, preserved with chemical excretions that mimic the effects of tannins and formaldehyde solvents. It was one of the reasons they were so dependent on water sources. And also very flammable.

  I threw the lighter at the bare skin walker while it was still recovering from Captain. The result was both spectacular and instantaneous. Its skin lit up like dry parchment, engulfed in a bright yellow flame. It screeched, slapping at the flames engulfing its body before dropping and rolling in the sand—not that that did much good.

  “Run! Run now!” yelled Artemis, and jumped out of the jeep.

  I followed, grabbing Captain off the hood of the jeep, leaving the screeching skin walker burning in the sand.

  I ran, doing my damnedest to keep up with Artemis as we put distance between ourselves and the skin walkers. There was nothing more I could do; the people from the buses were already dead, and even if I could get near the other skin walkers with the lighter, some of them were already wearing skins. I wouldn’t be saving anyone. I’d be martyring myself, and that never did anyone any good.

  That’s what I kept telling myself over and over as we ran, until eventually Artemis slowed to a walk. Sometimes I even believed it. Mostly, though, it was one word that coursed through my monologue, and it was in Rynn’s voice.

  Coward.

  I gripped the third pendant close. I suppose some things burn themselves on your conscience, much like the skin walker writhing in the sand.

  11

  PLANES, TRAINS, AND AUDIBLE SCREAMS

  A while later, in the wee hours of the morning: Somewhere north of Timbuktu.

  I hate trains. Metal binlike cages. The IAA had tried to toss me in one a couple years ago. “Just tell me we won’t be sharing a car with livestock,” I said. Livestock and cargo holds brought uncomfortable memories of Carpe to mind. I stopped to shake out my shoe. I had sand just about everywhere it could get now, even though we’d kept to a packed road made where the sand had given way to bedrock.

  Artemis inclined his head. “If a train’s cargo hold bothers you that much, you could always hike back and see if the skin walkers will give you a ride in their school bus.”

  The silence we’d enjoyed after escaping from the skin walkers hadn’t lasted past two hours. I suspected that the last twenty minutes of peace had been due only to Artemis having winded himself. Innate supernatural fitness appar
ently had its limits.

  I was also winded—and bored. I started to whistle the tune that had stuck itself into my ear.

  Up ahead, Artemis stopped. “Oh, for the love of all that is holy, will you please stop whistling that infernal song?”

  I pulled my shoe off and dumped the contents. Sand spilled out.

  “I can’t help an earworm.”

  “You can help sharing it! Why don’t you take a cue from the cat? At least he stays quiet.”

  I felt Captain stir and lift his head at that. He let out a sleepy mew from his carrier. He’d opted to use me as his packhorse.

  “You hate my cat.”

  Artemis huffed, and I settled back into my whistling. Istanbul was Constantinople . . . it was keeping my mind off the massacre, and if the only fallout was annoying Artemis . . . Besides, I dared anyone to try not thinking of that song when planning to catch a train towards Istanbul.

  Artemis didn’t bother me again. I figured he knew how tentative my rein on panic was.

  Up ahead I could see lights and what looked like a small adobe building, sticking out of the sand in the middle of nowhere. “Is that it up ahead?”

  “What gave it away? The middle of nowhere or the people milling around?”

  I sighed. If it had been up to me, we would not be traveling by train.

  More silence as we trudged towards the lights—well, except for me humming . . .

  “It wasn’t your fault—the skin walkers.” Artemis looked at me over his shoulder. “The running was what killed them. The skin walkers were cats playing with new toys by that point.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you try to warn them, then?”

  “Because it wouldn’t have done any good. If they hadn’t run, maybe the skin walkers wouldn’t have noticed them, but if we’re being completely honest here, they were probably all dead as soon as they boarded a plane to Mali.

  “Needless to say, it doesn’t bode well when the skin walkers are scared of what Rynn might do.”

  I didn’t reply. Neither did Captain, who usually couldn’t resist adding his two cents’ worth to a conversation.

  “There has to be more to this than chasing after the Tiger Thieves,” Artemis said, changing topics as we trudged towards the station. I could make out the people waiting now, shadows moving into and out of the lights.

  Artemis shook his head. “I keep running this over in my head. Rynn—he must be after something. Was there anything the two of you were searching for?”

  Shit. I reached for da Vinci’s silver device in my pocket, keeping my emotions calm—or trying to. It felt cold in my palm. “Ah, no—why do you think that?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “The Tiger Thieves are more legend than reality now—they existed, and enough people are left who have had run-ins with them and lived to tell the tale—but their capabilities and whether they still exist are unknowns.”

  “Unless he knows something you don’t,” I said.

  Artemis snorted. “If I don’t know, Rynn doesn’t know.”

  “Then he’s worried that they can do something or that I can convince them to intervene.” Artemis frowned at me. “It just doesn’t seem that complicated. It’s an unknown. He’s worried; ergo, take me out.”

  “Hmmm. Not his style. He chases known threats, not ghosts of threats. The Tiger Thieves are ghosts, and you aren’t a threat. There has to be something more.”

  If he hadn’t been so close to the truth, I would have been inclined to agree. The safest bet was to keep my mouth shut, which I did. Artemis was still frowning at me.

  He didn’t look away. “What?” he asked.

  Shit. “What?” I parroted back.

  His frown deepened. “What are you so perplexed about?”

  I shrugged, gripping the silver ball tighter. “Nothing. Just still bothered by the skin walkers, that’s all,” I said, and picked up my pace.

  He didn’t buy it. “No, you’re not. You didn’t like seeing people killed by a pack of skin walkers, but on a sliding scale you’re dealing unnervingly well.”

  Silence from me. I could see the lampposts in the distance. I was not going to tell Artemis about the silver orb in my jacket . . .

  “Did I insult you? Saying you weren’t a threat?”

  Everyone underestimated me; of course I found it insulting. I was also used to it. I thought about lying and answering yes, but I figured he’d pick up on that. “Look, let’s just—I don’t know—get on the train. I’m tired, and I need to think about the next location.” We’d used the third pendant to see where it directed us next. The map had said Istanbul, but it hadn’t been very specific about the location. Water and caves.

  Artemis didn’t let up. “I’ve already figured it out.”

  “What?” I ran to catch up with him, grabbing his jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged me off. “You hum your idiotic song, I forget to mention crucial information. Be happy I decided to tell you at all.”

  “You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that you haven’t stabbed me in the back yet, I’d think you’d joined in to sabotage me,” I said, moving past him.

  That got a reaction. “Hold on one fucking minute,” Artemis said.

  I spun. “What?” Captain added a belligerent meow over my shoulder. Artemis hesitated but only for a moment. “I gave my word I would help rescue my cousin, which, despite what you believe, I have no intention of not doing. But you?” He tsked. “You I’m not so sure about anymore.”

  He turned his hand over. In it was something small and silver. The device.

  Shit. I patted my jacket pocket to see if it was a trick. It was gone. Goddamn it, I hadn’t even felt him take it.

  He gave me a vicious half smile. “Not much of a thief, are you? Now, for the last time, nicely. What the hell is this, and why does Rynn want it enough to chase you around the globe?”

  I glared at Artemis. “It’s one of da Vinci’s inventions, and what it does is none of your—” I snatched it back.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You realize he was a madman? You can’t seriously be thinking that using one of his derelict devices is the answer. If you do, you’re a lot more reckless than I thought.”

  I did not need a lecture from Artemis, of all people, on how to save my boyfriend. “Am I still banking on the Tiger Thieves? Yes, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t consider other options. You said it yourself: they’re a legend!” It was another option, simple as that. Maybe not the wisest one, but I wasn’t about to leave it in the depths of Venice, not if there was a remote chance it might end up being a desperately needed Hail Mary. I didn’t give up that easily.

  “You don’t get to cast me as the bad guy,” I said. Artemis had the track record for being the villain, not me.

  And despite Artemis’s hand clenched around my wrist, I still had da Vinci’s device.

  I was the one in control.

  Artemis let go and took a step back. “Just what is it you want, Alix? Because that”—he nodded at the silver orb—“is not the way to help my cousin. So I’ll ask you once again, what the hell is it you’re really looking for?”

  I met his green gaze, keeping my thoughts and emotions as well hidden as I could. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Me? I made a deal with Oricho.”

  “Exactly. You’re the hired help.” I turned and picked up my pace. We were well within hearing range of the station now, yet no one even glimpsed our way. “And stop using your goddamned powers!”

  “With pleasure.”

  A young man sitting on the ground looked up from a mug and started at the sight of me. Another followed. Amongst the local Malian passengers I was attracting a great deal of silent attention; everyone in the station was staring at me as I sat down on the cement bench. Okay, maybe I’d been a bit quick to tell Artemis to lose the powers.

  “Just the hired help,” he said, repeating my words, as he brushed by me.

  He had no right to be upset. Not after eve
rything he’d done.

  I took a seat on a bench beside a woman who looked me up and down until she caught me staring at her as well. She glanced away.

  “Just remember, I might not like my cousin and the stick up his ass, but that doesn’t mean I want him dead,” Artemis said, sitting down beside me and offering me one of two tin cups. “Water—drinkable at that. The height of hospitality during some periods of time.”

  I considered refusing it, but I was too damn thirsty. I took a sip and gave the rest of mine to Captain.

  “You really want to stoop to the level of a mad vampire sickened by his own disease?” Artemis asked.

  “Something like that.” I huddled in my jacket tighter. One by one the passengers seemed to stop seeing me, their eyes glazing over whenever they were looking directly at me. I decided it wasn’t the bridge I was going to stake my war on.

  I held the silver ball in my pocket. It might have been my imagination, but it felt as if it were coating my fingers with a slick taint. I shoved it deeper into my pocket and removed my hand into the chill evening. It mollified the sensation, but only a bit.

  “Contrary to what you think, I’m not willing to compromise people so easily,” Artemis said.

  I laughed. “Yes, you are. You had no problem doing it in LA.”

  He fell silent.

  Me? I stared in the direction everyone else was as they waited for the incoming train, listening to my cat lap his water.

  A piece of reflective metal glinted on the station wall, and I quickly looked away.

  I sat like that for twenty minutes, until Captain hit my hand with the top of his head, chirping to get my attention.

  I thought I glimpsed something in the reflection of the tin cup’s water, an eye that was too blue to be mine. I could have sworn it winked at me before disappearing. I gave the cup and water to Captain.

  I elbowed Artemis. “Did you see that?”

  He frowned and picked up the cup. “He sure as hell couldn’t do that before,” he said.