by Lynde Lakes
Hugh touched his nose and wriggled it. She nodded, picking up the scent of a cat as well. As they stalked the cat through shifting shadows, she sensed it stalking them with its equally strong sense of smell. Her nerve endings tightened in readiness. Tigers allow no margin of error. And these tigers had been loose long enough to be ravenously hungry. When forced, tigers ate toads, grass and wild berries but not as long as there was the scent of meat in the area. And she and Hugh were fresh meat. Tension radiated from her pores and she felt the strain radiating from Hugh as well. Stress could cause them to morph. She felt her untamed spirit churning inside, threatening to take over.
She met Hugh’s gaze and mouthed, “Are you okay?”
He closed his fist and shook it, as if to let her know he was hanging on.
She heard the rustle of brush and, with her sharp eyes, she searched the shadowy foliage. She took a deep breath; it failed to relax her. Tigers avoided large and formidable foes. And the chance of being attacked by both of the missing cats at once was small. Tigers hunted alone. When attacked—and she knew an attack was eminent—would she and Hugh be large enough and formidable enough to capture even one hungry cat? As they passed under a wild elm, she looked up; the scent of the leopard had grown stronger. The temperature in her body rose higher, threatening change. Morphing was risky due to the armed hunters in the area, and retaining their human forms was an equal challenge because of the hungry cat’s claws and teeth.
She saw a patch of fleeting orange slinking through the brush and suffered a moment of hope mingled with dread.
She motioned to Hugh to get the net ready and made a rotating gesture, alerting him she planned to circle behind the cat and force him back, hopefully into Hugh’s net.
She drew her whip from her backpack and moved silently. The snap of the whip should send the beast toward Hugh and into the net.
The individual markings above the eyes warned her that the cat she now faced was Predator. His eyes were glazed as though frightened—and a scared animal was unpredictable. Dread washed over her as the cat crouched low as if about to attack.
She had to stop him from leaping. She straightened her stance and snapped the whip with a loud crack. Predator, a very large male, slashed out at her with his gigantic paws. She cracked the whip again, counting on him to identify her by her unique scent. They had confronted each other many times. And she had fed him and lain with him.
He growled, waved his tail, and then swiftly stalked away, belly low to the ground, not ready to give up his free-roaming nomadic life. If Hugh used his newly acquired skills successfully, Predator would learn his freedom was short lived and he must be returned to his life of co-existing with humans. She sighed in relief as he headed toward Hugh and his net.
Okay, Hugh, don’t let me down.
When she returned to the area where she’d left Hugh, he was smiling. Predator had been netted and caged.
“With the danger to our cats from hunters in the hills,” she whispered, “we’d better return Predator to the circus menagerie holding cage before going after Assassin and Leo the tree leopard.”
Hugh nodded and with his amazing strength he began pulling the cage toward the circus grounds. She got behind and pushed, easing the wheels over the ruts and rocky areas.
Once Predator had been fed, watered, and returned to his circus home, they headed for the hills again, knowing now that darkness had fallen and only a slender new moon lighted their way, the danger had quad-tripled.
Assassin’s scent was strong. He was the newest and the least co-operative of the cats and catching him would be trickier than catching Predator.
Suddenly, and only for an instant, she saw the glow of cat eyes in the tangled brush. Was it Assassin or the leopard? In the wilds, cats usually worked alone, but these two cats had worked together in the circus. She looked up again into the tree they were now passing under. What if—?
Her blood turned icy and a chill slipped down her back when she heard the growl. As suddenly as a bolt of lightning, the leopard landed on Tigra. The huge male leopard had the edge of weight and surprise and knocked her down. Its claws sank into her flesh. As she fought, she began to morph. The process seemed to be weakening her. Rather than give in to her vulnerability, she struggled with all of her might, and by some miracle she kept the leopard’s sharp teeth from sinking into her throat. With both hands occupied, she couldn’t get to her dart gun.
She heard Hugh growl. Then, like the alpha male he was, he lifted the cat off of her. Like a flash, the leopard whipped around and turned all of his venom on Hugh. Its cat call was chilling. She grabbed her dart gun and aimed for the leopard. As the morphed Hugh and tree cat fought, Hugh kept getting in the way. That’s all I need is to accidentally shoot him.
She had to remain calm and wait for her chance.
Tigra’s heart stopped when over the wolf and leopard growl she heard a cat growl. She jerked her head and spied a patch of fleeting orange slinking through the brush. Even if she hadn’t known before, the markings above the glazed eyes verified the cat crouched low in an attack stance was the scared and hungry cat known as Assassin. She aimed her tranquilizer dart gun at him, but he was on her before she could get off the shot.
Hugh, now a werewolf, turned and threw the leopard into the cat, Assassin. Now both animals were on top of her fighting each other, their claws digging into her in the process. Hugh yanked the huge males off of her like they were kittens.
They turned on him and she saw the bloody scratches and blood flowing down his limbs and matting in his body hair. She aimed her dart gun at Assassin, the most dangerous, and pulled the trigger. Assassin’s body jerked. He pawed at the dart then made a final attempt to slash at it as he dropped to the ground. She aimed at Leo and took him down too.
She had an urge to rush to Hugh. She froze at the sound of voices drawing nearer. She glanced at Hugh. Blood dripped from his claws and teeth. In his hairy form, he even terrified her. Dear, God, don’t let the hunters happen upon us now.
A bullet zinged passed her head.
Chapter Nineteen
“Help me secure the cats and get them to shelter,” Tigra mouthed.
Hugh nodded and silently helped her lift the unconscious cats into the cages. After they rolled the pens inside the nearest cave and verified they hadn’t been followed, they turned on the heavy duty flashlight and stripped off enough clothing to treat one another’s scratches and gashes. Time was of the essence. Animal scratches and bites carried deadly bacteria. As she smoothed antibiotic salve from her first aid kit on his hair-encircled injuries, Hugh began reverse morphing. The frightening jerky spasms lasted for several minutes. Tigra wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him, but from her own shifting experiences, she knew the best thing to do was let him ride it out. When he’d completed his twitching and the muscle contractions stopped, he drew her into his warm, comforting arms. “Did the cats hurt you?” He gently trailed a finger over her face and neck.
She winced. Even his light touch sent pain through her. “The scratches will heal. I’m just glad we’re alive and the cats are safe. It could’ve ended differently.” She didn’t fail to notice, as he came out of his painful spasms, his first thoughts were of her.
In the shadowy light, he was looking at her lips.
With effort, she stepped back. “Thanks for saving me, Hugh.”
Hugh drew her back into his arms. “It was a joint effort. I know what it cost you to shoot darts into the cats you love.”
She looked up and met his gaze. Her heartbeat accelerated. “We’d better get dressed. Even though you’re morphed and no longer showing signs of lycanthropy, I don’t want to deal with the hunters or animal control guys.” She crossed her fingers. “Once we have all of the animals safely back in their menagerie maybe the outsiders will leave the area before someone gets hurt.”
He nodded but rather than release her, Hugh stroked her hair and looked into her eyes. As if hypnotized, she entwined her arms around
his neck and drew him closer. His heat flowed into her like the steam from the pools the night she felt hot, wet, and wild. She lifted her head, offering what she sensed he wanted…what she wanted.
He let out an agonized groan, then bent and captured her lips in a gentle taking. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip with maddening slowness, sending sensations racing through her. She moaned, and he covered her mouth again. She tasted his feral, aroused flavor, like an alpha after a triumph.
Their bodies connected as he kissed her hard and hot, and even though it wasn’t wise, her body reacted with aching, pulsing desire. Hugh's feral fire liquefied her limbs until she could only cling to him. His hands caressed her back, catapulting her into a world of warm, delicious madness. She craved to experience his wolfish passion and release her tiger wildness.
Suddenly Hugh’s shoulders stiffened. He gently untangled her arms from his neck. “Like you said, we should get the animals back for the safety of the public and the circus.”
Although she had said that earlier and it was the wise thing to do, she felt like strangling him. “You’re the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.” She sent him a sly smile. “And also the hero who just saved my life. Great job, Hugh.”
****
Hugh had dealt with loneliness his whole life, but this was a new kind. It was the kind that made him ache to reach out and grab onto the idea that maybe he could have a life with Tigra. Then as he indulged in the heat of the moment reality crashed in on him. Caring deeply wasn’t enough when the problems keeping them apart were overwhelming duality and different goals. It jabbed at his heart to stop kissing her, but the ramifications of his curse got in the way. He’d believed if he ever got the opportunity to save this woman he’d come to love, the affliction would disappear like a puff of smoke and the curse would end as it had for his brother Damon and his wife Angela. Then magically he could share a life like theirs with the woman of his dreams. But he’d saved her several times without the hoped for results.
He raked his hand through his hair. Maybe the remedy of sacrificing himself for Tigra had failed because her love for him wasn’t strong enough. Or because they’d saved each other.
Whatever the explanation, maybe he should give up his dream of escaping the curse and having a normal life. But could he do that? In a very short time Tigra had become a part of him. She was the backbone of the circus and he wanted her to be the backbone of his life. His future would implode if anything happened to her
****
Tigra sighed in relief after they secured the wild ones in the circus’s larger menagerie cages. After they fed, watered, and treated the animals’ wounds, they headed for her caravan. Maybe now they could get back to what they had started in the cave.
With a hopeful heart, she switched on the lights and saw a second note propped up next to a napkin holder on the counter. Who put it there? No one but the boss had keys to her place. She tore open the envelope.
It is a matter of life and death that I talk with you alone within the hour. The future of the circus and many lives depend upon your immediate response. I’ll wait for you in the fun house near the slide of terror.
Tigra skipped down to the signature—Madam Mystic’s name was scrawled at the bottom. Tigra wasn’t sure if it was the fortune teller’s signature, but she didn’t question the Amazon-sized bloody fingerprint next to it. Did the blood mean the mystic was hurt? She couldn’t chance it. Setting aside her plans, Tigra shoved the note into her pocket.
“Something important?” Hugh asked, looking concerned.
“Madam Mystic wants to talk to me alone. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Tigra rubbed the bridge of her nose to fight off a headache. “She stressed, for the future of the Circus, I must come alone.”
Tigra grabbed up her still packed emergency bag, looped her arm in his, and walked him out the door. She relocked her caravan door and followed him down the steps.
He paused at the bottom. “If you find her emergency is something I can help with don’t hesitate to call.” He turned toward his caravan, and then paused. “I need to talk to you about something. Can we get together later?”
She shrugged. She wanted that, too, but not necessarily to talk. “If it’s not too late, I could come by your place.”
****
Tigra used the skeleton key to let herself into the sound-proof fun house and walked into a world of shadowy weird mirrors and ax-wielding monsters. The place had closed for the night and the dim security lights heightened the eerie atmosphere. Suddenly the equipment motors started up and mirrors rotated and changed as she moved through the spine-chilling maze. The fun house, or house of horrors as she called it, had been designed to rebound a spooky echo. Even her breath echoed back at her as though she were in a wind tunnel. Crept music, accompanied by an out-of-tune violin screeched in the background. She passed grotesque puppets and hideous deformed mechanical mannequins with groping arms.
Her nostrils twitched at the odd mustiness in the air. She took a shallow breath and stiffened her spine. She knew her way through the tangled assortment of popping up ghosts and ghouls and wasn’t about to allow them or the sense of a presence hovering nearby to frighten her. It was the running equipment that bothered her. It was always shut off for the night. Who turned it on and why? Madam Mystic wouldn’t have any reason to fool with the electronics.
The thirty-foot slide of terror was just around the next curve.
“Lost, Tigra?”
It was Skully’s deep haunting voice behind her. She pressed her lips tight to hold back the scream tearing at her throat. She swallowed her fear enough to turn and face him.
At first, his features were barely visible in the dimness and shadows. Then she made out the black cape with the red lining and the elongated pointy teeth. “You! You’re the vampire. You sent the note. Where is Madam Mystic?”
He eased closer, bringing a chilly breeze with him. “I’ll take you to her.”
Fighting his mesmerizing tone, Tigra reached into her bag. Her heart pounded as she clutched the stake and locked her gaze on him.
He lunged and, with icy hands, grabbed the weapon from her and threw it on the ground. She tried to lift a knee into his groin, but he thrust his thigh between hers and blocked her attempt. She twisted and thrashed against him, but he held her so close her movements were ineffectual. Their breathing beat the air like the wings of warring bats. He glared down at her with piercing red eyes. She envisioned fire shooting from his glowing eyeballs. Maybe that came next. “We’ve been co-workers and friends for five years now.” They’d never really been friends, but she had to play him as he was playing her.
She attempted to morph, willing it with all of her might. Why can’t I shift?
Charges of electric anger shot through her. She wanted to scream and attack this demon with her teeth and claws. She fought to control the tremors betraying her terror.
Her wary gaze traveled over the strong, sharply cut lines of his jaw, along lips that held a hint of cruelty in their stillness. Sparks dropped from the corners of his mouth. His nose was straight and even, the cheekbones high and hard, hollowed underneath with shadows. The slicked-back hair gave his features a more angular appearance. His lustful, piercing red-eyed gaze sent spikes of fear prickling down her back and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes glowed like the Devil’s.
“Turn around and face the wall!” he said in his thick Hungarian accent.
She knew better than to turn her back on him, yet she seemed compelled to do his bidding. He clamped a pungent rag over her face. She fought the chloroform soaked cloth while willing herself to morph. Darkness was closing over her. Oh, God, I’m a dead woman.
No! I must fight this. But how?
Chapter Twenty
Tigra blinked her eyes open and tried to focus as she tumbled painfully from a burlap bag onto a stony cave floor. The dimly lit lantern sitting on an indentation in the wal
l illuminated Skully’s menacing stare. Holding a gleaming knife between his elongated teeth, he yanked her to her feet. “Good, you’re awake,” he growled. “You can walk the rest of the way.” He grabbed the lantern and roughly pushed Tigra ahead of him into the dank cave.
Her mind spun, foggy and confused. A wave of anxiety flooded her. “Where are we going?”
He laughed nastily. “To hell,” he said with a smirk that was especially grotesque in the glow of the lantern.
Shifting the knife to the small of her back, Skully shoved her forward again, deeper into the tunnel. “You made my earthly journey as smooth as free flowing blood by not believing it could be me, and made it easier to get away with the thefts and my passionate taking of meaningless lives. All was going well until you stuck your pretty slender nose into my affairs. By stealing my golden arrowhead and returning it to the museum, you’ve brought things to a head, upped my timetable, and forced my hand.”
She glanced back at him. “So you admit being the vampire thief?” It was incredulous that death could cast its evil shadow in a circus meant only to bring happiness.
“You’ve known it on some level all along,” he said. “I’ve felt your awareness…your tentative fear.”
Did I know? “Where is Madam Mystic and what does she have to do with all of this?” Dear God, Skully’d been killing innocent women along the circus traveling circuit for years and getting away with it. And the day will end with my death if I don’t do something.
I mustn’t think too far ahead, plan only moment by moment, and watch for an opportunity to counter-attack. She sucked in a breath to fight the icy panic that gripped her and threatened to undermine her determination and defiant march into the unknown.
She whirled and faced him. His piercing, calculating eyes glowed with an inner fiery evil, as though he were the Devil himself.
