Blind Tiger (Wildcats Book 2)

by Rachel Vincent

  “Why? They’re caged next to each other, and they don’t kill themselves trying to get through the fence.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with us smelling like humans and cats. Or maybe it’s that we’re walking around free when they aren’t.” Titus jumped down from the bin and landed right in front of me. “All I know is that I went to the zoo once, not long after I was infected, just to watch them. To see how much I had in common with nature’s true predators.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “That the cougars and leopards backed away from me, but the tigers were ready to rumble.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s because they’re so much bigger than we are. They know they have nothing to fear.”

  I watched him, fascinated by the thought of Titus staring through a chain-link fence, trying to figure out where he fit into the natural order. “What kind of cat are we, when we have fur?”

  “No kind.” He frowned. “No, we’re our kind. A species of our own. We are like no other cat in the world.” He pulled me close for a kiss. “And you are like no other woman in the world. Which makes you doubly unique and fascinating.”

  Grinning, I went up on my toes to give him another kiss.

  “This is where you say something nice about me,” he said.

  I slid my arms around his neck and whispered into his ear. “You have a very limber tongue.”

  Titus laughed. “And you have a one-track mind.”

  “No, there are two tracks up here.” I tapped my temple. “But one is totally dedicated to thinking and speaking from the gutter.”

  “And what is that other, more productive track thinking right now?”

  “That it’s my turn to go in feline form.”

  “No.” Titus’s dark brows dipped low. “If security thinks you escaped from one of the cat pens, they’ll shoot to kill.”

  “The same goes for you. But that won’t happen, because the sorority hosting tonight’s Blind Tiger party already got rid of security. Remember?”

  He scowled. “I remember thinking that was a terrible idea, at a zoo.”

  “Agreed. But the worst the partiers are going to do if they see me is run screaming and call 911. Besides, you need to be able to talk to your brother, when we find him. Which you can’t do in cat form. He won’t recognize me. We don’t even know if he’ll understand that I’m another shifter.”

  “Fair point.” But Titus didn’t look happy about it. “Fine. But one of these days I will win an argument with you.”

  I grinned. “Don’t count on it.”

  “Go ahead and shift. I’ll stand watch.” Because a shifter was never more vulnerable than when she was caught between forms, unable to defend herself.

  I stripped behind the trash bin, tossing him each article of clothing as I removed it, knowing he could see me perfectly well in the dark, even with his human eyes. Titus stuffed my clothes into his backpack as I knelt on the grimy concrete, shivering.

  As I shifted, breathing deeply through an agonizing dance of stretching muscles and dislocating joints, I let my mind drift to distract myself from the pain. Usually, that meant reliving a happy childhood event or a particularly satisfying college tryst. But something about the cold concrete and the unpleasant mix of scents wafting from the nearby trash bin called up less pleasant memories.

  Hiding behind a pile of bulging black trash bags, staring through the grimy glass of a cabin deep in the woods, watching camo-clad, rifle-carrying men come and go. Waiting for my chance…

  My knees cracked as they shifted, and the traumatized muscles connected to them stretched so tight they felt ready to pop like elastic. If I could have unclenched my jaw, I might have screamed.

  Teeth sinking through flesh into bone as I broke that redneck bastard’s neck with one bite…

  My rib cage expanded, each thin bone creaking as it moved into place until my chest felt like it would tear itself apart. My lungs burned—each breath felt like swallowing glass.

  Racing through the forest, trying to outrun the stench of my enemies. The taste of their blood in my mouth. Knowing that I’ve lost control once more. That I may never truly be in control again…

  My skin began to itch as fur sprouted all over it, sprouting like grass grown in fast-forward to cover my entire body. Pain shot through my teeth as they grew longer and sharper. As they rearranged themselves in my mouth, like the handiwork of some psychotic dentist.

  And finally, when the ordeal was over, I lay panting on the filthy concrete, waiting for the echo of pain to fade from every nerve ending in my body. Stunned, as usual, I needed a moment of stillness—a moment of quiet—in which to understand what had just happened.

  Would the process never seem natural? Would my mind never come to terms with the reality my body could no longer deny?

  “Robyn?” Titus knelt next to me on the balls of his feet, looking more limber and agile on two legs than I was on four. “Are you ready?”

  In reply, I stood, and with my first truly deep breath, alarm resonated through me like the echoing vibration from a cymbal. Never in my life had I smelled such an amazing and startling array of scents. My muzzle bobbed as I sniffed the air, taking them all in.

  Titus chuckled. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  Feline, bovine, porcine, equine, avian. I smelled moss, and mold, and rot, and bleach, and the dry, grainy scent of some kind of food pellet. And water. Not chlorinated or salted, like pool water, but fresh yet stagnant, like a pond with insufficient circulation.

  There were so many scents I could hardly distinguish them. Too many to concentrate on, yet I couldn’t afford to simply block them all out, because I was looking for one scent in particular.

  Justus.

  Like Titus, but not.

  Unlike a dog, I wouldn’t be able to track him, but if I could detect some trace of his scent, I’d know we were in the right place. We had come an hour early, hoping to see and smell all the partygoers as they arrived, including what would hopefully be the only guest on four legs.

  Other than me.

  “Let’s go,” Titus whispered as he climbed onto the trash bin against the fence at the back of the zoo. “You’re first.”

  Instead of following him onto the bin, I hunkered down in a four-legged squat, muzzle pointed at the goal. Eight-foot vertical jump. No problem. I launched myself into the air with my rear legs. My whiskers flattened against my cheeks. The ground fell away.

  My back feet caught the top of the fence, my paw pads curling around it for balance. My front paws hardly brushed the chain-link, then I pushed off against the fence, as I had against the ground. An instant later, I landed on concrete. Inside the zoo.

  Chain-link rattled at my back. Titus landed in a squat, backpack square on his shoulders, one hand on the ground. His tongue wasn’t his only limber body part. “Okay, let’s find some place to hide, where we can see the entrance to the herpetarium.”

  Fortunately, the zoo’s pathways were lined with flora to look like a wilderness trail, and in the dark, the gaps between the individual plants and shrubs would be even harder to see. At least for humans.

  We found a spot behind several large ferns, and Titus squatted next to me, his arm stretched over my back, one hand on my shoulder. “Can you see anything?” He nodded to the herpetarium for clarity.

  I stared at the low brick building. There were no windows. If anything was happening inside, I couldn’t see it. Nor could I hear it, even when I rotated my ears to face the building.

  “Well then, we’ll just have to wait,” Titus said. But we’d only been hiding a few minutes when I heard a shuffling sound from down the paved pathway in front of the herpetarium. Seconds later, I heard a giggle.

  I whined, low and deep, and pointed my muzzle in the direction of the sounds, which Titus couldn’t hear yet, with his human ears.

  He stared down the path, and we both tensed when a small group of people came into view, arms weighed down by heavy bags, whispering softly to
each other as they “snuck” toward their destination. As if somewhere nearby there was a sleeping security guard who might wake up if they spoke aloud.

  I could tell from the way Titus dismissed them that Justus was not among the group.

  For the next half hour, we watched small clusters of people my age or younger walk in carrying bulging bags, pushing rolling beer kegs, and lugging cardboard boxes full of portable speaker components. But Justus did not appear, and the novelty of our stakeout soon faded.

  No house cat in the history of either houses or cats has ever sat still for more than fifteen minutes without falling asleep, and by eleven forty-five, I was nearing my limit.

  I stood and stretched. I yawned, subtly getting Titus accustomed to the idea that I could make small movements in the foliage without alerting anyone to my presence. Then I padded silently through to brush to the left, moving parallel to the path the party-throwers had all come down, combining reconnaissance with movement, to keep myself alert.

  “Robyn!” Titus whispered fiercely. “Where are you going?”

  I had no way to answer, so I kept moving.

  Naturally, he came after me. “You can’t wander around the zoo looking like a cat!”

  If I could have spoken, I would have pointed out that wandering around looking like a human would have been just as dangerous, after hours, and probably more illegal.

  No one ever accused a cat of trespassing.

  “Robyn!”

  But it wasn’t Titus’s irritation that brought me to a total standstill in the brush. My nostrils flared slightly, and my head bobbed as I scented the air, trying to pinpoint a direction.

  Titus saw my reaction and dropped onto his heels. “Is it Justus?” He scanned what we could see of the path, and tension flooded his scent as clearly as it came through in his posture.

  I gave him a small shake of my head. Not Justus. A scent I knew even better.

  Leaves rustled across the path, and my focus homed in on the movement with an ease and precision my human eyes could never have managed. Cats may experience the world through taste and smell, but they hunt with their eyes and their ears.

  Titus followed my gaze, and when the leaves rustled again, he spotted the movement.

  “Not Justus.” He set his backpack on the ground and dug quietly through the front pocket. “Do I need a weapon?”

  I rolled my eyes at him, but I had no way to tell him that we were in no danger, except….

  I looked down the path to make sure no one else was coming, then I stepped boldly out of the bushes onto the narrow paved road, staring right at the place where the leaves had moved.

  “Robyn!” Titus called in a whisper hardly loud enough for me to hear, but I ignored him.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Drew stood from his hiding place across the path. I could tell from the brief wash of surprise over his face that he hadn’t known I was there. Yet after that initial shock, he seemed…relieved. As if he’d been looking for me.

  “Come over here and let’s have a chat.” He spoke too softly to be overheard by anyone nearby. Anyone human, anyway.

  Titus stood, and Drew’s eyes widened.

  Why would he be relieved to see me, but surprised to see Titus? Then I understood.

  Corey Morris had told him that I’d asked about the party. Or maybe Brandt had told him.

  Did Drew really think Titus would let me go out alone, in a strange city with a shifter murderer on the loose?

  Wait, he didn’t know about the murder. And he thought Titus was the only thing to be afraid of in Jackson. Suddenly I was very glad we’d both showered after our latest…connection.

  “Shit,” Titus breathed. “We led him right to the party. We have to get him out of here before Justus shows up. Assuming he ever does. I’ll talk to him. You get back in the bushes before someone sees you and panics.”

  Reluctantly, I slunk into the foliage to listen. And watch for Justus.

  “I assume you spoke to Corey Morris?” Though Titus was whispering, I could hear him perfectly well.

  “Brandt, actually.” Drew glanced over Titus’s shoulder at the brush where I was hiding, but I couldn’t tell whether he could see me.

  “If you came here for Robyn, there’s no need,” Titus said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”

  “I believe you, but… Titus, the council wants her. When they found out I’d taken over the territory, but she’d left with you, they lost their shit. Abby’s dad called to renegotiate. They’re prepared to accept the Pride on a trial basis right now—if I bring Robyn to them. Tonight.”

  Damn it.

  Drew’s timing could not be worse. And he’d negotiated with my freedom. I’d been willing to do that for Titus and Justus, but not for a Pride without Titus as Alpha.

  “A trial basis?” Titus crossed his arms over his chest. “That means they can change their minds whenever they want. Which’ll be as soon as they have Robyn. It’s not a real acceptance, Drew. They’re manipulating you with an empty promise.”

  Drew bristled visibly. “It’s more than they’ve ever offered you.”

  “Actually, it’s exactly what they offered me. And it’s not good enough. We can’t accept anything other than full recognition by the council. And Robyn isn’t a pawn to be sacrificed.”

  My chest suddenly felt too tight. As if my heart had swollen within it. If I’d been human, I would have thrown myself at Titus, arms wide open. But pouncing on him in cat form wouldn’t have quite the same effect.

  “No offense, man, but that’s not your call anymore. She doesn’t belong to us.”

  “No, but she does belong with us,” Titus growled. “It’s her decision.”

  “That’s not how this works,” Drew insisted. “This is our chance, Titus. This is what we’ve been working toward for years. We give them their tabby, and we get everything we’ve ever wanted. And it’s not like they’re asking for anything crazy. They want her to keep her word. Which is exactly what we want from them.”

  “You can’t trust them—”

  “That’s my call,” Drew said through clenched teeth, and a sinking feeling weighed heavy inside me. I recognized this conflict. It was the same one brewing between Jace and Titus. The same one that had come between Marc and Jace once upon a time, according to Abby.

  Drew was an Alpha now. A dominant shifter on equal standing with Titus. Yet he lacked Titus’s experience. He didn’t yet know how to temper the instinct telling him to win this battle at any cost.

  Titus wasn’t willing to back down, and Drew didn’t know how to. If something didn’t change, they would come to blows.

  Someone would get hurt.

  I had no intention of going to Atlanta until I’d negotiated the return myself. But if Drew got a whiff of Justus while he was trying to talk me into leaving with him, he’d figure out how Corey Morris was infected—a capital offense the council would insist that he punish, even if only to show loyalty to the assembly he wanted to join.

  Titus wouldn’t be able to protect his brother.

  The only way to get rid of Drew before Justus showed up would be for me to go with him. Maybe there’d be time for me to call Faythe and negotiate on the way to the border. If not…I’d escaped the Southeast Territory once. I could do it again.

  I stood, ready to intervene, but before I could step onto the path again, a thud caught my attention from the right. From the direction of the fence Titus and I had jumped.

  A second thud followed, then a third: shoes hitting the pavement.

  Titus and Drew were still arguing. Their human-form ears hadn’t picked up the sound.

  I snuck through the foliage toward the fence, listening. Trying to decide what to do.

  “Six parties in six days!” The voice was soft, yet obviously excited. “But you can’t bail on us tonight, man. This is the last one.” Three men rounded a curve in the path, still talking. Each carried an open bottle of beer, and none of them had any idea they weren
’t alone.

  “I’m not going to bail,” the guy in the middle said. “I got sick, I told you. Bad shellfish.”

  It was the familiar quality of his voice that made me look closer at him. But it was his face that drove a bolt of shock through me. Looking at him was like looking at a younger version of Titus. A younger replica.

  Practically a clone.

  A sniff in the kid’s direction confirmed it. Justus Alexander had arrived. He had come to party. And threaded through his scent, I caught a ribbon of his infector’s—

  Son of a bitch.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Titus

  “Okay, we’re not going to argue about this.” Drew swept one hand through his hair, and I had to fight for calm, when my instinct was to inform him that he wasn’t really the Alpha. He was a pretender to the throne. A temporary fix until I could be sure I wasn’t a detriment to the Pride.

  He had no right to make demands of me.

  “You stepped down voluntarily and asked me to do what’s best for the Pride,” he continued. “And that’s what I’m doing. That’s what I’ve been doing, since this whole thing was just a crazy idea you and I came up with in the middle of the night, several bottles in. And this is what’s best for the Pride. It’s not a death sentence, Titus. The council doesn’t want to hurt Robyn. They want to do what’s best for her.”

  “That’s up to her to—”

  A dark blur shot across my peripheral vision. Something seized the left leg of my pants, over my calf, and dragged me backward. Hard.

  I stumbled, righted myself, and whirled around. “Robyn! What the hell?”

  She whined, deep in her throat. Obviously, she was trying to tell me something, but without words, all I could pick up clearly was anxiety. And urgency.

  “You can’t be seen. What’s—?” Then I heard the voices.

  “—make you forget about that lying bitch. You won’t even remember her name.”

  “Ivy who?” The second voice laughed, and I turned, stunned, as my brother rounded a curve in the manicured path, sandwiched by two other kids in Millsaps shirts and light jackets.

  “Justus?” Disbelief echoed in my voice. We’d discovered two corpses in our forty-eight-hour search for my brother, and there he was, laughing with his friends, carrying an open bottle of beer, as if he had nothing in the world to worry about.