The Rising dr-3

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Run,” he snarled over his shoulder at me. “Get out of here.”

  That’s what I’d threatened to do. That’s what I should do. Even now, cars were slowing and a group of barhoppers were crossing the road to watch the entertainment.

  If it had been one guy, I’d have run. Clearly Ash could take care of himself against one guy. Maybe even two. But the other three were moving in and I knew no one had planned on a fair fight.

  As the redhead recovered, I leaped between him and Ash.

  “That’s enough,” I said. “You aren’t going to find beer at this hour unless you go to a bar. There are plenty around. Now go find one.”

  He shoved me out of the way. I lunged to grab him, but one of his friends caught me, yanked me off my feet, and threw me aside. I heard Ash snarl as I hit the ground. When I turned to scramble up, they were all piling on him. Rage filled me. I grabbed the back of the nearest one’s jacket and heaved. He spun to backhand me, then stopped.

  “What the hell?”

  He knocked my hands off his jacket and stumbled from the heap, still staring. When he backed away, one of his friends glanced our way. He stared at me. Just stared. My hands flew to my face and I felt it shifting. I lowered my hands. Fur was sprouting on the backs.

  SIXTEEN

  “WHAT THE HELL?” THE guy said again, his voice rising.

  The others had stopped hitting Ash. He caught a glimpse of me and let out a curse. He pushed his attackers off, ran over, grabbed my wrist, and started hauling me along the sidewalk. The guys just stood there, staring.

  We nearly crashed into a couple stepping out of a restaurant. The man started to snap at us, then saw my face and yanked his wife aside.

  “You need to stop,” Ash hissed. “Reverse it.”

  “I’m trying.” My voice was harsh, guttural as my vocal cords began to change. “But once it starts . . .”

  He swore and looked around. I saw a parking garage across the road.

  “There,” I said, pointing, my fingers curving under.

  I moved as fast as I could, but my hips were changing, too, legs bowing. Ash hauled me into the parking garage. I made it around the first corner, then staggered to a shadowy gap between two SUVs.

  “Good,” he said. “Get in there. I’ll stand guard.”

  He pushed me. My legs gave way and I crashed down.

  “Shit!” He swooped down to grab me. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  I waved for him to move away.

  “Do you need anything? Can I do anything?”

  Just get out of the way so I can get my clothing off before I pass out. That was too much for my vocal cords to manage, so I just shook my head and waved him back again.

  Thankfully, I seemed to be getting more lead time before the passing-out part, and I managed to get mostly undressed before I hit the ground.

  I recovered better, too, not lying there, dazed and wondering what hit me. I stood and stretched, letting out a snarling yawn. Ash spun from his spot guarding the gap. He stared at me.

  “Maya?”

  Who else? I would have said, if I could, but I knew he wasn’t questioning whether it was me, but whether it was really “me” or was I subsumed by the cat, which might lunge and sink its fangs into his neck at any moment.

  I chuffed.

  “Okay,” he said, still gaping. “So that’s . . . you look like a mountain lion. I mean, obviously, but I wasn’t sure if we’d look like real mountain lions or some kind of monster. Definitely a cat.”

  I stretched, head down, front paws out, hindquarters in the air. My tail flicked against one of the SUVs with a thump.

  “You’re bigger than I expected,” he said.

  I shot out the claws on my extended front paws.

  He chuckled. “Nice.”

  I retracted my claws and settled on the pavement, head on my front paws.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s about all we can do.” He lowered himself. “Sit and wait for you to shift back.”

  I chuffed. And so we waited. It could take awhile, but we were tucked back deep enough that cars passed without their drivers catching sight of us.

  Then, “You! What’re you doing there?”

  Loafers slapped the pavement, the daintier click of high heels hurrying to catch up. Ash got to his feet and leaned out.

  “Yes, you,” the man’s voice said. “Between the cars. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Parking,” Ash said.

  “Right. Your car? Or one you jacked?”

  “Bill,” a woman’s voice murmured, cutting him off. “Don’t.”

  The man grumbled. “You just better hope it wasn’t my truck you were breaking into, boy.”

  “This yours here?”

  Ash thumped the SUV on the right. It was a light thump, just enough to let me know that I needed to get under the other vehicle. But the guy shouted, as if Ash had bashed it with a sledgehammer.

  “Bill!”

  There was no time to crawl under either SUV. The man was right there. Ash blocked, but he wasn’t nearly large enough to hide the tawny big cat crouched on the dark pavement.

  “Jesus!” the man said. “It’s a cougar.”

  “It’s okay,” Ash said quickly. “She’s just scared. I was getting a better look—making sure she wasn’t hurt. She’s fine, and if we all just leave her alone, she’ll find her way out.”

  “Find her way out?” the woman exclaimed. “That’s—that’s a cougar. In the city. Bill! Get back from there.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling 911.”

  “No, wait,” her husband cut in before Ash could. “Get a picture first. Hold on. I’ll get closer. I want to be in it.”

  “Bill! It’s a cougar!”

  “Stop shrieking. It’s an overgrown cat.”

  Ash froze, torn between stopping him and stopping the woman from calling the police. The man brushed past him. I swallowed a growl and forced myself to stay perfectly still. If he wanted an overgrown cat, that’s what I’d be. Let him get his photo. Convince his wife I wasn’t a threat. I hoped Ash could persuade them to leave afterward.

  “See, Sue? Just a big kitty. You’re a pretty kitty, aren’t you? A big, pretty kitty cat.” He kept inching forward. “Get the camera ready, Sue.”

  Every instinct told me to run. Cat instincts. Wild animal instincts. But I was still human. I didn’t need to surrender to those. So I slitted my eyes and forced myself to stay still while this idiot approached a 120-pound cougar with his hand out, ready to scratch it behind the ears.

  Wild animal attacks on humans are rare, but of all the predators in Canada, the cougar may be the one most likely to do it. Obviously, this guy never got the memo. After this, he’d probably be going to zoos, climbing the enclosure, saying, “Here, watch this. . . .” Famous last words, as yet another unfit human is removed from the gene pool.

  His wife had gone silent, clutching her phone as she watched. Ash’s chin bobbed, nodding encouragement to me. Just get through this. Let him pat me. Let him get his damned photo and leave.

  “Nice kitty,” he said. “Such a nice kitty. Sue? Are you ready?”

  His wife hesitated, then lifted the phone for a picture. He glanced back at her.

  “Good. We’re going to get the photo of a lifetime. Bill Wilson taking down a cougar bare-handed.”

  “Wh-what?” Ash said.

  The man lunged. He tried to grab me in a choke hold. I twisted out of his grip. Panic shot through me like wildfire, consuming all thought.

  I was cornered. I had to fight back. Attack the threat. End the threat. Eliminate the threat.

  When he came at me again, I felt my back legs bunching. Heard myself snarl. Felt my lips curl back, fangs flashing. It was like I was outside my body, watching it prepare for attack. Prepare for the kill.

  “Bill, stop!” The woman’s shrill voice knifed through my skull.

  “No way. I’ll teach this mangy cat to respect humans—”

  Ash grabbed the guy by the
jacket and yanked him so hard he stumbled. But he wrenched free and came at me again. That split-second interruption was all it took for my human brain to snap back to life and when he rushed me, I took a swipe at him. It was a good swipe—with a paw the size of a lunch plate—but my claws were retracted and I didn’t plan to make contact. Still, it was enough. He saw that swat coming and he jumped back. Ash caught him by the collar and heaved him out of the way as I squeezed under the SUV.

  “I’m calling 911,” the woman babbled. “I don’t care what you say. I’m calling.”

  I lay under the big vehicle. It was a tight fit and I was flattened against the pavement, ears smashed against my head. The woman reached the dispatcher before Ash could get to her.

  “There,” she said. “The police will come and shoot it.”

  “Hell, no,” her husband said. “I’ve got my rifle from last weekend. I should have remembered that earlier. Forget a photo. I’ll get a real trophy.”

  The man opened the hatch of his SUV—the one right over my head.

  “You’re going to shoot her?” Ash said, his voice wavering, as if he was struggling to stay calm and reasonable. “Do you know how much trouble you’ll get in? They’re an endangered species.”

  “Not in BC they’re not.” He rummaged through the back of his truck. “I’m a hunter, boy. I know what’s what, and this beast just attacked me—I hope you got a picture of that, Sue. I’m within my rights to shoot it.”

  “In a parking garage? After your wife called 911?”

  “Couldn’t be helped.” A rifle case clicked. “It went after her, too. Right, Sue?”

  His wife said nothing.

  “Huh,” the man said. “Looks like I forgot to unload it. We’re all set, then. I’ll just—”

  I heard Ash let out a snarl and watched his running feet disappear as he jumped the guy. The man fell back. Ash took him down as the woman screamed. Ash leaped to his feet first. He kicked the man, hard enough to make him wail. Then he kicked him again.

  “Run, Maya!” Ash shouted.

  I was already squeezing out the other side of the SUV. I raced into the lane and heard a rumble. I looked over to see headlights, so bright they blinded me. Tires squealed. Someone shouted. I saw the man lying on the ground, his wife running to the car, shrieking and sobbing. There was no sign of Ash.

  “Run!”

  Ash tore from between the SUVs, my clothes bundled under his arm. “Run!” he yelled again.

  I roared up the ramp, Ash behind me. As I rounded the corner to the exit, headlights blinded me again and I dived to the side. The wrong side. I was pinned against a wall near the exit, trapped between it and a car. A police car.

  SEVENTEEN

  “OH, YEAH,” SAID THE officer in the passenger seat as he lowered his window. “That’s a cougar.”

  His partner swore and stopped the car. I could see Ash on the other side, tucked behind a pillar, his gaze darting from the cruiser to me.

  The passenger door opened.

  “Hey!” his partner called. “Don’t do that!”

  Ash stepped from his hiding spot and waved for me to get out of the building. I tore through the exit and nearly mowed down two girls in miniskirts. The police siren echoed their screams as the officers shouted at Ash and the girls to take cover.

  I barreled past the girls and raced along the sidewalk, only to see a whole crowd of college kids pouring from a bar. I veered onto the road. I didn’t stop to look. I didn’t think to. I saw all those people and my brain sent me flying the other way—right into traffic.

  Brakes squealed. Horns honked. People shouted. A crash behind me as cars collided. I kept running, swerving around them, tearing down the middle of the street as drivers stopped and gaped and pulled out cell phones.

  Another siren joined the first. Then a third. The sounds snapped me back and I raced to the opposite sidewalk, pedestrians flying like bowling pins as they scattered out of my way.

  “Maya!” Ash shouted behind me. “You need to get—”

  I veered down the first gap between buildings. An alleyway. I raced along it until I passed a row of recycling bins outside a doorway. I tucked myself between the bins and was standing there, flanks heaving, when Ash caught up.

  I looked up at him.

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Take cover.” He peered up and down the alley. “This looks good. Just stay where you are.” Another look. “And tuck in your tail.”

  I pulled it in and sat, my sides still heaving as my heart rate slowed.

  Ash crouched beside me. “You okay?”

  I dipped my muzzle in a nod.

  “Scary, huh?” He said the words awkwardly, like it wasn’t something he was accustomed to admitting.

  I dipped my head again.

  He hunkered down, getting more comfortable. “I think we did okay. Best we could, under the circumstances. Just . . . a string of bad luck.”

  I chuffed.

  “I shouldn’t have gone after that kid,” he said. “I should have listened to you. Ignored it. But . . .” He rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes I can’t.” He looked down the alley. “Most times I can’t.”

  It’s not easy. There are all kinds of racism—from that frat-boy ugliness down to the kind of stereotyping and misconceptions where people don’t even seem to realize they’re doing or saying anything offensive. I had been lucky growing up in Salmon Creek. The way we were raised, I didn’t even feel different. I was just one of the kids. My parents were just a normal couple. I think I was ten before I even heard the term interracial marriage.

  Even when I encountered racism outside Salmon Creek, it usually rolled off me. The worst of it often came from rednecks whipping past in rusted pickups. I looked at them and I looked at me—class leader, track star, straight-A student—and their slurs about dirty Indians and drunk Indians and dumb Indians were laughable.

  Mom says crap like that comes from people who’ve accomplished so little in life that they feel the need to lift themselves above someone, anyone. So they pick skin color or religion or sexual orientation and say, “Well, I might not be much, but at least I’m not a . . .” I’d look at those guys, and see the truth of her words. Even with the frat boys, I knew I was their equal. In a couple of years, I could be sitting in class beside them.

  But it was different for Ash. He certainly seemed smart, but from the way he talked, he hadn’t spent much time in school. If I asked about college, I’m sure he’d make some crack about having to decide between Harvard and Yale. That wasn’t in his future. Nor were athletic trophies and community awards and academic scholarships. He’d look at the rednecks in the rust-bucket pickups and say, “At least they have a truck.”

  I wished I could talk to him about that. I couldn’t. Not now, obviously, and probably not even when I’d shifted back to human form. It wouldn’t be a topic he’d discuss. Not with me. Probably not with anyone.

  We waited. I could still hear sirens and shouting. At one point, a couple of cops looked down our alley, but it was only a cursory glance.

  “When you’re ready, we’ll get in farther.”

  I chuffed. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that—all I needed was to shift back and we could walk out.

  When a familiar scent wafted down the alley, I bristled. Ash noticed and looked over.

  “You hear something?”

  I shook my head and lifted my nose to make a show of sniffing the air.

  “You smell someone. Daniel?” A split-second pause. “No, you’d be a lot more excited if it was him. So it must be . . .” He cursed. “Someone from the Cabals?”

  I nodded.

  “I’d ask who, but I don’t think you can manage charades. Doesn’t matter anyway. If they’re here—”

  Words drifted in from the street, seeming to rise above the others. “—dark patch on her flank.”

  We both heard it and went still, straining to pick that one voice from the chaos.

  “Yes, that’s her,” the voice said. �
��Juvenile female with that distinctive dark patch. She escaped earlier today. I notified animal control. They said they’d pass on the message to the city.”

  “We never got it,” a woman’s voice said.

  “My apologies, then. We aren’t local, and we were uncertain of proper protocol. We’ll deal with that later. She needs to be found promptly and handled with care. She’s a very valuable research subject. It’s critical that we get her back safe and sound.”

  “I’m a lot more concerned about the safety of our citizens.”

  “You needn’t be. That man said she attacked him, but you don’t escape a cougar attack without a bite. You usually don’t escape alive. She’s accustomed to people and poses no danger to anyone except herself. My men have tranquilizer guns, as do the animal control officers. We need help locating her, but we can take it from there.”

  Ash looked over at me. “Is that . . . him?”

  I nodded. It was Antone. I thought of how fast they must have heard the news of a loose cougar and how fast they’d mobilized. Not to mention how easily they seem to have convinced the authorities to let them take point on this operation. They were insanely organized. Insanely experienced. Insanely well funded. How could teenagers hope to outwit them?

  I closed my eyes and slowed my pounding heart. We’d done it so far.

  At what cost? How many are left? Maybe just you and your brother.

  I kept breathing, struggling for calm. I could do this. I had to do this.

  “We need to head out,” Ash said. “Down the back way.”

  I nodded and took one last sniff. Antone’s scent was gone. I must have caught it as he’d walked near the alley mouth, but he’d passed now, and even his voice had faded.

  As I crept out, Ash stayed by the recycling bins, watching down the way we’d come. Guarding me again. I appreciated that. I’d have to tell him so when I could—and once I could figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn’t embarrass him.

  “All clear,” he whispered. “Now go, go, go!”

  He jogged along behind me and nearly smashed into my hindquarters as I leaned to peer around the corner. When I backed up, he said, “What?” then looked for himself.