Heart of the Cat: Sarafin Warriors Book 3

by Smith, S. E.

  “Vlad, let’s go,” another man said in Russian, coming around the side of the truck.

  “Not without that cat. Look at her coat. Her pelt will be worth a fortune on the black market! I want the cub as well. We can sell them both,” Vlad ordered.

  Both men ducked when her father shouldered his rifle, aimed, and fired at them. The man next to Vlad lifted the rifle in his hand to return fire. Trescina saw her mother leap forward, her front claws extended. Trescina backed up as her mother drove the man back against the truck. Her powerful jaws clamped around the man’s neck. The rifle in his hand fell to the ground as he struggled to break free.

  No! Trescina cried when she saw Vlad pull a machete out of the back of the truck.

  She watched helplessly as Vlad drove the long blade through her mother’s ribs. Her mother stiffened and released her grip on the man’s throat. Vlad pulled the machete free and stabbed her mother again.

  Her mother emitted a loud yowl of pain before she crumpled to the ground. Grief seared through Trescina, and she attacked with everything she had in her small body. Her teeth sank into the man’s arm near his elbow. He twisted and punched her in the side near the top of her ribs. She clawed at his chest in a desperate attempt to break free.

  He struck her again, this time against the side of her head. The stunning blow caused her to release her grip on his arm. His long fingers gripped the skin of her nape and he held her up and away from him. She braced for another blow when he lifted his hand. The force of his backhand snapped her head to the side, causing black dots to dance in front of her.

  Darkness fogged the corner of her vision before she shook it away. Staring at the ground, an uncontrollable sob tore from her throat when she saw the dark blood staining her mother’s side.

  Fight, Trescina, her mother weakly ordered. Use your claws.

  Trescina could hear her mother struggling to breathe. She whimpered again when the man pulled her close, using her as a shield against her father’s assault.

  The man next to Vlad straightened, lifting one hand to grip his savaged throat. There was a loud report from her father’s rifle, and the man’s eyes suddenly widened. He looked down at his chest. A circle of blood began to bubble from the bullet hole in his heart.

  Trescina cried out when Vlad’s hand tightened on her neck as he backed around the side of the truck. Her father dove for cover when Vlad lifted his bleeding arm and fired several shots from his pistol. Trescina’s cat hissed in rage. These men—especially this one—had come to destroy her small, happy family for nothing more than greed.

  She erupted in a wild frenzy, raking her back claws down the man’s chest, opening up new deep cuts near the ones she had already inflicted. The man moved to put more space between them, and Trescina took advantage, striking him across his left cheek, leaving four lines of deep cuts from his cheekbone to his chin.

  He opened his hand and dropped her. When she landed on the ground, he shot out his booted foot and struck her in the side, sending her flying back against the heated stone of her burnt home. Trescina lifted her head and watched with dazed eyes as the man named Vlad jumped into the truck that had been left running.

  She flinched when rock, snow, and grit from the spinning back tires struck her face and chest. She struggled to her feet and shifted back to human form. She staggered on trembling legs over to her mother where she lay panting. Dropping to her knees, she bent over her mother’s limp body as her father slid to a stop and knelt beside her.

  “Oh, my beautiful love. You must hold on,” her father pleaded softly in Russian as he moved his hand to the deep wound on her side. “Please, my love.”

  Trescina caressed the soft fur of her mother’s face with trembling hands. Her father’s words passed over her numb mind as he frantically tried to stem the blood flowing from her mother’s side. Tears blurred her vision when her mother’s body shimmered, and she shifted into her human form.

  “Momma,” Trescina choked as she ran her fingers along her mother’s cheek.

  “Trescina… where’s… Katarina?” her mother forced out in a voice filled with pain.

  Trescina reached down and grabbed her mother’s hand. She pressed the back of her mom’s cold fingers against her damp cheek. She released a trembling breath as she fought to answer.

  “She’s safe. I hid her down near the river,” Trescina responded in a soft, tearful voice.

  Her mother pulled her hand free and reached for the chain around her neck. When the necklace caught under her mother’s shirt, Trescina reached down and helped her pull it out.

  “Take it,” her mother ordered.

  Trescina looked at her mother in confusion for a moment before she clumsily unhooked the clasp and pulled it free. She held the glowing red gem between the palms of her hands. Looking up at her father, she silently begged him for help.

  “Ivan…,” her mother’s voice was barely audible.

  Trescina watched her father scoot closer and grip her mother’s hand. Tears coursed down his face as he lifted the pale fingers to his lips. His own hands were stained with her blood.

  “Protect them…. My people…,” her mother whispered.

  Ivan nodded. “I will, my love. I will protect them with my life. Your people will always be safe,” he vowed.

  A tender smile curved her mother’s lips before she turned and looked at Trescina again. A flash of pain swept across her face, and she tried to draw in a breath. Trescina could see the light fading from her mother’s eyes.

  “You must… keep our secret. Our people….” her mother’s voice faded to silence as she released her last breath.

  “Momma,” Trescina cried.

  She bent forward and pressed her cold cheek to her mother’s. Harsh sobs made it hard to catch her breath. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and rocked back and forth, calling for her.

  “Momma…,” another soft voice called.

  Trescina lifted her head and looked at Katarina. She must have felt their mother’s passing. Their father turned and held out his arms. Katarina ran forward with a sob.

  “I’m so sorry, Mia. I should have been here,” their father muttered as he cradled Katarina in his arms. “I will protect our daughters. I swear I will protect them with my life.”

  * * *

  Vladimir Mirvo pressed the smooth sleeve of his worn brown leather jacket against his ravaged cheek. A low curse escaped him when he felt the sting of his ripped flesh. The tiger cub’s claws were like razor blades. They had laid his flesh open as smoothly as a surgeon’s scalpel. The damn cat had inflicted wounds on his face and chest that he would carry for the rest of his life.

  He tightened his right hand on the steering wheel of the truck when its back-end started to slide. He fought for control of the bulky vehicle on the slushy, mud-covered road. He eased back on the accelerator to keep from losing control. Vlad shot a quick look at the side mirror to see if he had put enough distance between himself and the man who had unexpectedly appeared. Now several hundred feet from the house, he released an irritated sigh. He was the only man out of a team of five to survive what should have been a simple mission.

  He grimaced in pain when he hit a deep rut, jarring his body and reminding him again of the deep cuts to his chest. Mud splashed over the hood and coated the windshield and side windows, nearly blocking his view of the slippery road in front of him. With an impatient flick of his wrist, he turned on the windshield wiper. Globs of mud smeared across the already dirty glass, creating half-moon streaks that allowed him limited visibility.

  He reached down and gripped the window crank.

  He turned the lever and quickly rolled the window down so that he could see behind him. In the reflection, he saw the blond-haired man who had shot two of his men kneeling next to the large tiger that had attacked them shortly after they had arrived. He started to refocus on the road when it hit him that there was something odd about the scene behind him.

  He eased up on the gas pedal, opene
d the window, and wiped at the side mirror. He ignored the pain that exploded through his cheek when the frigid wind swept across the open wounds. He stared at the image reflected in the mirror. A young, dark-haired girl was bent over the still figure of the large, black cat. When he had first glanced in the mirror as he pulled away, there had been the tiger cub next to the tiger.

  He cursed when he glanced up at where he was driving just in time to see the narrow road wind to the left. He jerked the steering wheel in time to make the turn, and could now no longer see what he wanted to in the mirror. Slamming on the brakes, he shifted the truck into park and grabbed the binoculars from the floorboard between the two front seats.

  He pulled the door handle and practically fell out of the truck in his haste. Running up the side of the slope, he fell to his stomach and lifted the binoculars to his eyes. He swept over the field of vision until he narrowed in on the house that he had set on fire when they first arrived.

  Vlad followed the ground from the edge of the house until he found what he was searching for. The man knelt beside the body of the large cat. Adjusting the focus, he moved to the dark, curly-haired little girl who was bending over the tiger.

  Confusion swept over him. Where was the tiger cub? Where had the little girl come from? It had not been long enough for a girl to appear and a tiger to disappear—not by conventional means. There had been something off about this from the beginning. Adjusting the focus on the binoculars again, he returned his attention to the injured black tiger. A sudden wave of shock and disbelief swept through him. Instead of the tiger, a woman lay between the man and child now. He focused on the woman. He could see blood staining her clothing.

  “Impossible!” he muttered.

  He cursed in frustration at not being able to get a clearer view. A shiver ran through him when he saw the little girl lift something between her hands. He pulled the binoculars away and looked at the snow when he felt a drop of liquid fall from his chin. Bright red blood stained the pristine white, reminding him of the sharp claws that had raked his cheek.

  “They are unnatural beasts who must be cursed,” he muttered as he scooted backwards and up onto his knees before pushing off the ground.

  His mind swirled with the images he had just witnessed as he walked back to the truck. His gaze narrowed on the dead tiger in the back. He lifted the tailgate and secured the canvas to make sure no one could see what he had in the back. The Siberian tiger’s pelt would bring him a small fortune on the black market, but he was now thinking of something that could bring him much, much more.

  A grim smile curved his lips. A child who could change into a tiger would bring him great wealth. There were buyers all over the world that would pay a fortune to own someone as rare as she was. He would return once he had unloaded his cargo and had his face stitched up. That would give him time to do research on the identity of the blond-haired man and recruit the help he would need to capture the child.

  Chapter Two

  Present day:

  Deep in the Shrouded Forest of Sarafin

  Walkyr moved through the rebel encampment with confidence. Dressed as a mercenary, he kept all but his eyes covered, which did not reflect their true color thanks to Arrow Ha’darra’s new invention. His older brothers had been right when they said the Curizan were masters of technology.

  Prince Jazar ‘Arrow’ Ha’darra had worked closely with Walkyr’s younger brother, Pallu, to develop the special contact lenses that allowed him to see in the harshest conditions, no matter which form he took, while also covering the telltale color of his eyes. Now instead of silver eyes that would have revealed his royal lineage, they were dull, gunmetal gray.

  Walkyr watched a tall man step out of the shadows between two skimmers. The man didn’t slow down as he neared Walkyr; instead, he veered to the left, away from a group of men who were complaining about their living conditions. On silent feet, Walkyr moved away from the men, too, pulling his small disruptor from the belt at his waist. He pressed a button on its side, and the security shield in front of him opened, allowing him to pass through it into the thick forest on the other side.

  The day after their small group had arrived, they had erected the shield. It had not been soon enough, however. Several men had been attacked by some of the more savage native beasts. Walkyr had witnessed one of the attacks. He’d never seen such creatures on Sarafin before. These beasts must have evolved in this forest only.

  Walkyr briefly looked over his shoulder and shook his head. He knew that he was being followed. Once out of sight of the perimeter of the compound, he shape-shifted into his leopard form and took to the trees. He used the branches to move above the ground. Several yards into the forest, he heard the snap of a branch breaking. He crouched on the thick tree limb and waited.

  He swept his gaze over the shadows below him. The tall ferns almost concealed the person, but his contact lenses helped him see the man’s outline. He silently snorted and shook his head again—amateur. He tensed his muscles for a moment before he jumped down, landing on the creature behind the familiar man who had been following him.

  “Cat’s balls, Walkyr. Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Pallu hissed, twisting around and lowering the weapon in his hand.

  Walkyr released the large lizard that had been about to attack his brother. With a deft swat of his massive paw, he sent the creature flying through the air and into the high ferns. A single bite from the creature would have paralyzed his brother in his two-legged form. Since they preferred fresh meat, the large lizard would have eaten Pallu while he was still alive. With a thought, Walkyr shifted to human form and looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

  “How you’ve managed to live this long is beyond me,” Walkyr dryly retorted.

  Pallu grinned at his brother. “I was always the smartest and luckiest out of all of us. Besides, remember what Riley said? We have nine lives, so I have many more before I am in true danger of dying,” he replied.

  “She also said the taser wouldn’t hurt. How did that go for you?” Walkyr asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Pallu grimaced and rubbed his chest at the memory of his new sister’s tiny weapon. He had made the mistake of teasing Riley about the tiny toy shortly after the ceremony of marriage between Riley and his oldest brother. He really should have listened to Viper’s warning. After all, his big brother wasn’t known for a sense of humor or a tendency to over-exaggerate. Riley’s little toy had given him a deeper appreciation of the danger in taunting his two new sisters.

  “Not good. I’m just thankful that Vox refused to give Pearl her weapon back. Viper said it is ten times more painful,” he admitted with a wry grin.

  Walkyr chuckled. Pearl St. Claire was the grandmother of Riley and Tina. The fiery woman wore as much leather as a Sarafin warrior and had the heart of one as well.

  For a brief moment, a wave of envy swept through Walkyr before he pushed it away with a shudder. Out of six brothers, two had already fallen for human women. Perhaps the term fallen was too harsh. Vox and Viper had found their mates, something that Walkyr had never thought would happen—especially for Vox. Vox might have grumpily lived out his whole life mated to the Valdier princess his parents had chosen if Riley hadn’t swept him off his feet first—or more accurately, saved his life, then tasered him to the ground. Vox and Viper’s mates were quite unusual, most likely because their planet was so distant and isolated.

  “Have you discovered any new information?” Walkyr asked, pulling his mind away from mates and his brothers.

  Pallu shook his head in frustration. “Nothing. I’m beginning to think coming here was a waste of time. I think we should kill the lot of them and return home,” he replied with a disgusted shake of his head. “If this is the best the traitors can recruit, then we shouldn’t have anything to fear.”

  Walkyr looked back toward the encampment. He reached up and rubbed his chest. His cat was pacing within their shared mind. He was surprised that Pallu didn’t have the same inte
nse feeling that something important was about to happen. Of course, Pallu didn’t have the field experience that he and Viper had. Pallu’s passion had always been for technology, research, and weapons. That was one reason Walkyr had been reluctant for Pallu to join him on this mission.

  “There is something we are missing. My cat is anxious,” Walkyr murmured.

  Pallu frowned and looked at him with concern. “What do you think it is?” he quietly asked.

  Walkyr turned and looked deep into the forest. There was something there. He needed to go farther into the forest. He could sense its pull on his cat. His gaze narrowed when he noticed a shimmer of golden light—a floating ball of light. It felt like it was beckoning to him.

  “Notify Vox about the encampment,” Walkyr murmured, his eyes still focused on the forest and the orb.

  “What are you going to do?” Pallu asked in concern.

  Walkyr looked at his brother. “The scroll Viper found said there was a palace in this forest that held the secrets to the Heart of the Cat. I’m going to find it,” he quietly replied.

  Pallu looked at the dense barrier of swirling fog. Walkyr could feel his brother’s concern. Even with the special lenses, finding his way would be nearly impossible. He could easily become disoriented and lost—or worse, become food for one of the creatures that lived within the fog.

  “I can relay a message to Vox and join you,” Pallu countered.

  Walkyr hesitated. He looked at the forest again before he nodded his head. The others at the camp would assume that they had been attacked and eaten or that they had deserted the group. At least they would if any of the others even noticed they were gone. They had drawn little attention from the disgruntled band so far. With a sharp nod of his head, Walkyr reluctantly agreed.