Cristían negotiated another hairpin turn. “Let's gather everyone on the lawn out back. It's open enough; no one should feel trapped.” It'd give Cristían's people a better chance of escape if this all went to hell. “Steven should lead the discussion.”
He briefly considered they should all be ready to shift into jaguar form in a moment's notice. That too would be seen as a threat, since it meant they'd have to go in nude. Cristían second-guessed his decision to go in “kinder and gentler” when the driveway opened to the wide parking apron before the house. Late-afternoon sun spotlighted Frieda at the forefront. She clutched a semiautomatic weapon, her green eyes as wild as the tangle of blonde hair haloed around her head. Even her own clan members looked like they feared her.
“She's gone further over the edge.” Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, choked with what Cristían guessed was a mix of grief and fear.
“Perhaps telling them we were on our way and wanted a meeting wasn't such a good idea.” Jeremy folded his fingers over Lupe's. “Unless I've guessed wrong, it looks like every member of the mountain lion clan is here.”
“You guessed right,” Steven muttered and didn't seem happy about it. His people had acted on their own, a show of force Steven hadn't authorized. What little control he had as their designated leader had slipped a little further. One bullet would depose him, and Frieda looked ready to shoot it.
Cristían didn't see any other weapons. That, at least, was a good sign people weren't on board with Frieda's tactics. But she could do a lot of damage with her weapon before someone was able to take her down.
“Any idea where she was the night you were shot?” he asked Steven.
The other man's eyes widened at the thought one of his own may have tried to kill him. “I haven't asked for anyone's whereabouts. My guard was supposed to give me a couple of hours at your place and then come to check if they hadn't heard from me. I didn't think to ask if they saw the shooter, and they haven't mentioned anything. I haven't made them aware I was shot.”
“Frieda wouldn't leave that lab,” Jeremy said. “She's too intent on finding evidence against us.”
Which also meant she wasn't going to be open to what Steven was about to propose.
Frieda scowled as both vehicles pulled to a stop. Jaguar and mountain lion clans both gave her wide berth. Her finger was on the trigger, the weapon welded to her hand. There'd be no convincing her to set it aside either. Cristían wondered if she'd been holding everyone hostage, demanding they find something—a frightening possibility.
“My men will have weapons in their vehicle,” Steven said. “I would like it not to come to that.”
No one wanted it to come to that, but was it really so much of a risk when Cristían could presumably heal them all?
Jeremy twisted around, glaring at Steven. “Guns? You people fight dirty.”
“We fight to stay alive.” Steven clicked his seat belt open and scooted to the edge of his seat. “You jaguars live in the safety of the carefully structured world you've built. You've integrated into society, while we've lived on the fringes despite our best efforts. Shifting into our cat forms skylined us to ranchers and poachers. Even in human form, we've had to deal with drug dealers and those who are smuggling people over the border. When faced with guns, we acquired our own and shut ourselves off from a world that would rather shoot first and never bother to ask questions later.”
“And became those you revile,” Jeremy softly replied.
Cristían braced himself for a battle. None came.
“So it seems,” Steven said softly. “But you can't convince me the jaguars don't use firearms. I know better. We all do whatever it takes.” He pointed to the door. “If you please…”
Cristían cut the engine when Joaquin pushed the door open. They exited quickly, as did Steven's people from the other vehicle. They'd glamoured their attire to jeans and T-shirts. The tallest, a man who could have easily passed for Steven's brother—they all could, they looked so much alike—loped toward them. The other three moved to the back hatch, awaiting further word.
“Leave the weapons in the Jeep. Be prepared to take Frieda down if it becomes necessary. This is to be a peaceful encounter.” Steven's voice was loud and clear; so was his intent.
“Take me down?” Frieda screeched and charged his way, her weapon pointed skyward. Despite his orders, his guard scrambled for the weapons in the Jeep.
Steven snapped his palm up. “Stop…all of you.”
The guard stood down. Frieda did not. Cristían kept Lupe behind him. Jeremy guarded her from the rear. One swoop from Cristían's arm could knock Frieda down. That trigger finger and his lack of skill with the power kept Cristían from doing so.
“We've agreed the rear lawn is the best place for our meeting,” Steven said, then turned his back on Frieda and started in that direction.
“You're a braver man than I am,” Cristían told him.
“I'm glad it seems that way. My insides are quaking.”
“We've got your back,” Jeremy said, falling in step with Cristían.
“And who's got yours?”
“Lupe, of course,” they replied.
Steven snickered. “Of course. I should be so well championed.”
There was a silent but collective mindspeak gasp among the jaguars when they realized Jeremy and Steven now had that ability. No one bothered to explain; enlightenment would come soon enough.
Frieda stormed by, her small band of followers close behind. Whether they trailed her out of fear or loyalty, Cristían couldn't be sure and didn't really give a damn. The fact they were with her made them untrustworthy and worthy of extra attention.
Everyone fanned out in the growing shade on the east side of the house. Jaguars and mountain lions jockeyed for position. No one put their backs against the wall. It was bad enough all the leaders were in one spot. Frieda could mow them down in the blink of an eye.
How much blood would it take to heal everyone? Cristían would drain himself dry to save his own. Could he make that sacrifice for the others, the mountain lions, even those who were innocent victims of Frieda's madness?
By unspoken command, they spread out before the gathering—Cristían and his people on the left, Steven and his guard on the right. Frieda never budged, still at the front, weapon clutched for discharge.
“At least have the courtesy to lower that to your side,” Cristían told her.
Frieda smirked. “For old times' sake, lover.”
A warning growl rumbled low in Lupe's throat. Frieda's gaze slid her way. She flexed her fingers around the grip. In turn, Lupe curled her fingers. He would have called it a good bluff, but he knew Lupe wasn't bullshitting. She fully intended to kick Frieda's ass if necessary.
Cristían and Steven exchanged a look. At Cristían's nod, Steven took one step forward.
“A lot's happened the last several days,” he began. “One thing above all others has become apparent. We must work together as a team. All of us, mountain lion and jaguar alike.”
Murmurs rippled through the group. People fidgeted where they stood and eyed the person standing next to them.
Wyatt clasped his hand over his wrist, arms relaxed in front of him. “The accident here the other day was an unfortunate breach of our treaty, but it was a treaty we'd all broken before the ink was even dry. All of us know that and acknowledge it. Secrets were kept and information withheld on both sides.”
“Yes! That he'd planned to steal my body!” Frieda waved the gun at Cristían. “Don't deny it!” She whirled around. “Someone play the tape! It's proof!”
“There's no need.” Cristían reminded himself she wasn't of sound mind, that he'd played a hand in her incapacity. “I fully admit my intent. The explosion in the lab was an accident. All you have to do is look to see how it changed us. We've nothing to hide.”
“Someone's hiding something,” she snapped. “I see no change in you.”
“Cristían's blood now has the power
to heal.” Steven's voice rose. “I no longer have the virus.”
More whispers.
“I've had that verified by lab tests.”
“In their labs,” someone shouted.
“And in other ways.” Steven formed a claw and ripped his shirt down the front. Shock widened the mountain lions' eyes, and their mouths dropped open when they realized the clothes he wore were real, not glamoured. The jaguars eased themselves away from the mountain lions.
“I can also speak in my mind again, like our ancestors did,” Steven told them.
“Are you still one of us, or has that changed too?” Frieda asked.
Steven stripped away his clothing, letting it fall in scattered puddles around his feet. Once he was nude, the air shimmered, and a mountain lion replaced his human form. He changed back and faced them, fists on hips. “I am healed. The cost is a change from what we've become back to what we once were. I can't form clothing or the look of another person. The blood resets our genetic profile.”
A female guard cut ranks and stepped to him. “How?”
“Blood-to-blood contact,” Cristían replied. “My blood to yours. When Steven came to my house the other night, someone shot him.”
Frieda snorted. “Probably you.”
“They were inside.” Steven cut her a look. “Maybe it was you.”
“If I were going to shoot anyone, it'd be one of them.” Again, she waved the weapon wildly.
“I'm well aware you want me gone,” Steven told her. “I'll find out soon enough if it was you. We're investigating the scene.”
“We?” Her lip and left nostril lifted in a sneer. “Or them?” She jerked her head toward the jaguar leaders.
“The time for we and them is over.” Steven held his arms out, palms up, pleading for them to listen. “I was near death. Cristían bled himself to save me. The accident opened our eyes to each other's faults, but it was a blessing in disguise. Rather than have this pull us further apart, we can use this as a catalyst for change. They can heal us. We can work together. We can have our lives back!” His gaze locked onto that of the female guard standing nearest to him. “We can all love again, Sophie.” He stepped into her space and cupped her cheek. “Little sister, I would never lie to you.”
Cristían watched her eyes fill with unshed tears. Sophie blinked them away and took a step in Cristían's direction.
“How do we do this?” She held her arm out. “A large wound or small?”
“Let's make it nice and large!” Frieda whipped the gun up in a burst of fire.
Divots of grass gouged a line straight for Sophie. Cristían grabbed her arm to wrest her to safety. Something tawny flashed at the edge of his vision as he rolled them to the ground. He shoved Sophie's shoulder down and jumped to his feet.
Steven's long claws caged Frieda's throat against the ground. Her firing wrist was crushed under a guard's heel, the weapon now in his possession. She clawed for breath with her one hand, raking it down Steven's hand and arm until she choked against the blood pouring into her mouth. Steven didn't budge.
Sophie gasped and reached for Cristían's side. “You've been shot!”
Half-dazed, he touched where she indicated. A small chunk of his side was missing. Pain scored red-hot streaks through him. Not his pain. Whispers in his brain, fog, voices telling him…something.
Screaming cut through the noise in Cristían's head. A gut-wrenching, agonized denial that twisted his insides. He collapsed to his knees. Shock blinded him. He was screaming. His voice was raw and reverberating inside his skull. He saw but didn't want to know.
Only you can fix this.
“No. No…please…not this.” His plea came out a whimper.
“Lupe! Oh my God, Lupe!” Jeremy skidded to his knees beside her; shaking fingers fluttered over her bloodied torso. Her green eyes stared at the sky, unblinking. She gasped for breath, grappling for their hands.
No! Cristían couldn't breathe either. “Noooo!”
Cristían gave her the handhold she needed—the lifeline he needed.
“Save you,” she managed to say. “Saved you.”
Cristían viewed her through a veil of tears. She'd protected him, knowing she could be killed. “Crazy little warrior. I would have healed.”
“Not through the heart.”
Lupe was right. Still, a bullet to the chest couldn't have hurt his heart as much as it ached right now. He was going to lose her, one way or the other.
“Love you. I wish…I wish…” She dropped her hand over her belly, and her eyes fluttered closed.
“Cristían, she's dying,” Jeremy choked out. “Do something.”
“But…but she'll be changed.” He'd never hold her again, never watch the wonder in her eyes, never hear her laughter, never feel her body beneath his.
Jeremy fisted his shirt and yanked him close. “At least she'd be alive,” he said through clenched teeth. “I'd rather have her as a cat than never have her in my life again.”
Cristían tugged his shirt up to the wound at his side. It had already started to heal. Bullets pimpled to the surface and popped out. Rage and frustration screamed inside him.
He thrust his fists into the air, roaring at the injustice, the sacrifice Lupe had made. Paws formed. Long, lethal claws gleamed in the lengthening shadows. He raked them down his chest, shredding his shirt and skin.
“No!” Jeremy clamped his hands around Cristían's wrists. “Not like this! You'll rip yourself down to the spine. I can't lose you too. We do this together.”
Jeremy released him and formed claws. “Together.”
Cristían nodded his assent and slipped his arm under Lupe. She had to be in place the instant he had good blood flow. She was limp in his hold. She didn't make a sound; not so much as a whimper.
“We've got to hurry.” Already the wounds he'd inflicted upon himself seconds ago had started to heal.
Cristían put Jeremy's claws on his chest. He placed his own over his stomach. Claws pierced his skin and the muscle beneath, and together he and Jeremy ripped him open. Vertical and horizontal gouges crisscrossed his flesh, each rake going a little deeper, longer, over and over again, until blood poured from the wounds.
“No more,” Jeremy whispered. “Hurry.”
Cristían drew Lupe flush against his body. He was weaker than he'd anticipated, but the grief did that to a person, ate away one's soul. His arms shook from the effort to keep them together.
“Here.” Jeremy curled his body around Lupe's from behind and locked his arms and legs around them both.
“If I could have one wish…” Cristían's tears dripped down his chin and into her hair.
“I know…” Jeremy buried his face against Lupe's neck.
“Love you both so much.” Her voice whispered into their minds, giving them hope and the strength to hang on.
Her breathing grew to quick, heavy pants as the minutes ticked by. She wiggled between them, wanting more space. The last thing either of them wanted was to let her go. Reluctantly they pulled apart and laid her between them on the cool grass. Her wounds were gone, her eyes still closed. They stroked their hands over her hair and face, down her arms and sides. And wished.
Cristían wanted to say it was approaching sunset that made her body shimmer. Wanted to say it was the tears that still overwhelmed him that played tricks with his vision. Wanted to say his fingers only imagined thick, silky fur under them. Wanted to…but couldn't. With each breath, the woman they loved faded, and the calico cat she'd been replaced her.
“Stupid little cat.” Frieda snickered.
Cristían sprang up with a roar and hurled himself toward the woman. Why was she still alive? He lifted his arms, ready to blast her molecules back to hell.
Joaquin blocked his path. “No, my friend.” He clasped his shoulders. “No. You're not the monster.” He added a gentle shake. “Think how many others could be hurt by taking Frieda down. You don't want that.”
Cristían flexed his shoulders and pu
lled in slender threads of control. “There's your proof.” He waved his arm to Lupe. Jeremy cradled her small body. The tip of her long tail flicked. “What more do you people want? You've taken two women from my life…”
And the babies Lupe swore she carried inside her. Now they'd never know. Kittens? Cristían winced at the thought. Lupe would be thrilled, but it felt like a universal slap in the face.
“Yet I still offer to save yours.” He glared at Frieda. “Even your worthless hide.” She'd be the last one healed. If there were any justice in the universe, lightning would strike her dead before he got to her.
Sophie slipped her fingers over his forearm. “You saved my life. Would you be willing to do it again?” She scored a long furrow down her arm and offered it to him.
Cristían stared at the blood, then opened a wound that matched the canyon-sized gash on his heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Cristían looked pale against the white sheets that evening. He'd given a lot of blood. Jeremy was scared to death he'd bleed himself dry trying to save the mountain lion clan. But it was done, even Frieda, though she'd fought like hell against it. The guards had pinned her down, and Sophie had sliced open a wound on Frieda's arm to receive Cristían's blood. It was either do that or continue to watch Frieda spiral into madness. She'd cried herself to exhaustion when the cure took hold, begged everyone's forgiveness afterward. Few were moved. Jeremy supposed forgiveness would come with time, when they accepted it was the mutated virus that created the monster she'd become.
Tests confirmed the virus was gone. The fact the mountain lions could mindspeak, coupled with their obvious lack of clothing, should have been proof enough, but Cristían demanded scientific proof to back it up. While Steven and Wyatt went to a nearby Wal-Mart on an initial clothing run, Jeremy and Joaquin found a portion of the estate lab miraculously intact and were able to run the tests on-site. Dressed, reassured, and beyond exhausted, both clans took advantage of the many bedrooms throughout the home and called it a night.
Jeremy hoped they slept better than he did. He ached in places he never knew he had, inside and out. His mind raced a thousand miles a minute, trying to assemble all that had happened the last few days into logical order, even though he'd learned long ago there wasn't much logic in a shape-shifter world. It simply was.
Into the Heart 3: Into the Wild Page 17
