Sucker Punch

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  My own inner beast rose toward his. Oh, I knew the oven was on, but there was something sweet baking inside it, and my own inner leopard wanted to find out if it was cookies or cake. I had better control than that normally, but something about Bobby had unsettled me.

  His eyes went wide with surprise. “How can you be . . .” he started to whisper, and then stopped himself, glancing toward the officers outside the bars. He thought I was a wereleopard like him, but he didn’t want to out me. It was still legal grounds for dismissal from most police forces or military. The preternatural branch was the exception, but Bobby didn’t know that. Just like he couldn’t have known that I carried multiple strands of lycanthropy inside me, but never changed form. The doctors thought that catching so many types of the disease so close together had made me a medical miracle, so I was a carrier but didn’t have a full-blown case of any of the inner beasts I carried.

  I stared into his blue eyes in their mask of blood and said, “There’s more blood on you somewhere, isn’t there, Bobby?”

  “Yes,” he whispered as he met my gaze.

  “Show me, Bobby, please.”

  “I don’t want everyone to see,” he whispered, voice even lower.

  Newman said, “Can you give us some privacy, Duke, Frankie?”

  “Privacy, what the hell do you need privacy for? We brought Bobby in here jaybird naked. We seen the show.”

  Bobby flinched at that and went back to looking at the floor. What little animation had been in his face just drained away.

  “Humor us, Sheriff,” I said.

  “I won’t leave you in there alone with him unarmed, but we can turn our backs if that will help.”

  “If that’s the most privacy we can get, then we’ll take it,” I said.

  The sheriff turned his broad back first, thumbs in his duty belt. He had to tell the deputy to turn around. She seemed puzzled, but she turned around with my weapons still dangling off of her.

  I leaned in close to Bobby and said, “They won’t see now, Bobby.”

  “They already saw. You heard Duke.” He sounded stricken; that was the only word for it.

  Newman spoke slow and soft; he’d caught on to what I was doing. “We want to help you, Bobby, but you’ve got to help us do that.”

  Bobby shook his head, still staring at the floor.

  I called just a hint of leopard back so that it glided along my skin and trailed like warmth between us. It made him look at me again. “Bobby, show me, please.”

  He stared into my eyes as if he couldn’t look away, and he slowly began to drop the blanket. Newman didn’t try to catch it this time. He just let it fall open to expose the front of Bobby Marchand’s body. There was blood on his groin, caked into the short hairs around him.

  He started to shake, and if Newman hadn’t caught him from behind, he’d have fallen as much as his chains would have let him. “What did I do? What did I do to Uncle Ray? God, please tell me I didn’t do that to him. I don’t know why I would do that. I never, ever thought about anything like that. He’s my dad. I would never, but if I didn’t, then why is there blood there? What the hell happened last night?” He wailed his grief and horror. More than a scream, it was what people meant when they used to say keening for the dead.

  Bobby’s grief tore through him, and like all strong emotions could, it brought out his beast. Newman was still trying to get him on the bunk with the chains, with Bobby’s nearly deadweight hampering him, when I felt the rush of heat. It was as if I’d opened the oven instead of just walking past it. That blast of heat washed over me in a skin-prickling rush. Bobby raised his face upward and wailed again, but this time his eyes were pure yellow. His leopard looked out of his human face. It was the first part of his humanity to go, but it wouldn’t be the last.

  4

  “HIS EYES. LOOK at his eyes,” Anthony said.

  Leduc yelled, “He’s shifting. Get out of there!”

  Newman dropped Bobby and let him fall to his knees and one hand. The other hand was still chained to the bed and couldn’t touch the floor. Newman went for the door, but I could tell that the heat wasn’t enough yet. Bobby was still fighting his beast, still trying to win control back. I let myself glance at the door. Anthony had her shotgun to her shoulder like she knew how to use it. Leduc had opened the cell door for Newman. He barked an order at the deputy, telling her to put the barrel through the bars, not to hold it outside them. As soon as Newman was in the open doorway, Leduc drew his sidearm and aimed it at the fallen man. They had no idea that Bobby was still fighting to stay human. They couldn’t feel it. If I left the cell, they’d just shoot him, and I couldn’t even blame them.

  I went to my knees beside Bobby and spoke low. “I’m here, Bobby. I’m right here.”

  His yellow leopard eyes stared at me from inches away. His voice came out as a growl. “Get out. Can’t . . . hold it.”

  “Get out of there, Blake!” Leduc yelled.

  “He’s still fighting not to shift,” I said, but I never looked away from those bright yellow eyes. I touched Bobby’s arm, and his power jumped from him to me. It called my own inner leopard like I knew it would, but I trusted my control. I’d played this game before on both sides of the problem. My energy made his stumble, for lack of a better word.

  “Anita, get out of there!” Newman’s voice was urgent. I didn’t look at him. I knew he’d have a gun in his hand by now, too. If I stopped blocking their aim, Bobby Marchand would die.

  The man kneeling beside me blinked, his human face showing that he was already losing his words, because leopards don’t think in words.

  “Your name is Bobby Marchand. You live in Hanuman, Michigan.”

  He stared at me, frowning, as if he knew I was talking to him but in a foreign language that he couldn’t understand.

  “Come on, Bobby, I know you’re in there. Talk to me.”

  “If he shifts with the door open, we will have to shoot, and friendly fire is a bitch, Blake,” Leduc said from behind me.

  “Then close the door.”

  “Anita, no!” Newman said.

  I just kept looking into Bobby’s face and willed him to answer me. “Bobby is still in there. He’s still fighting to stay human. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Do you, Bobby?”

  He gave the smallest shake of his head; it was a start. I was so happy that he’d responded that I added my jolt of joy to the energy. It jumped down my hand into him. He shivered and then gripped my arm back where I still held on to him. The energy of our beasts swirled across each other’s skin, and when he blinked at me next, I saw his eyes widen in surprise. He didn’t whisper it, more breathed it out with his lips barely moving. None of the humans at the door heard him say, “Your eyes.”

  I blinked and knew that if I’d had a mirror at that moment, my own eyes wouldn’t have been human either. My eyes were the only thing that ever changed for me. To save himself, he couldn’t find his words, but to warn me of danger, to save me, he’d found his human half.

  I leaned in close to him, using his body to hide my eyes from the door, because if they saw us both with inhuman eyes, I didn’t know what would happen. No, I did know: They’d shoot us both. Maybe Newman would try to save me, but Leduc would shoot first and sort it out later, and his deputy would follow his lead. I hugged Bobby, resting my face in the bend of his neck on the side opposite the door. It gave him a perfect opportunity to tear my throat out, but I could feel the heat of his beast withdrawing like we’d finally found the knob to turn the oven off. From the doorway, people were yelling just my name or demanding to know what I was doing. But in that second, I knew if I looked back at my fellow officers with leopard eyes, they’d kill us both.

  5

  I RAISED MY voice to make sure all my fellow officers would hear me, but I was careful not to yell and startle the man in my arms. “We’re okay. We’re both okay.
No one is shapeshifting. Right, Bobby?”

  “Right,” he said, voice low and hoarse. He had to clear his throat to be loud enough for them to hear him say, “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I’m okay. I’m not going to change.”

  Newman said, “His eyes are blue again, Duke, Frankie. Let’s everyone calm down and lower the weapons.”

  I drew back enough for Bobby to see my eyes. I thought they were human again, but I wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

  He nodded and then said, “We’re okay. We’re both okay.” It was his way of saying we were both safe to look at the armed police on the other side of the bars. I took his word and looked back at them.

  Newman’s gun was aimed at the floor. Deputy Frankie’s shotgun was lowering. It was Sheriff Leduc who still had his handgun wedged between the bars so he’d be sure not to miss us by bullets ricocheting against the metal. His eyes were wide, lips parted, breath coming a little too fast. I could almost see the pulse in the side of his neck thudding against his skin. He was the veteran officer of the three, so why was he the one who was freaking out?

  I looked at him, met his brown eyes with my own so that I was giving him eye contact about as serious as I’d given anyone in a while. “Hey, Duke, I’d feel better if you lowered your sidearm or at least stopped pointing it in my direction.”

  “Just move away from him, Blake.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Duke,” I said. I tried to make my voice as unemotional as I could. He was emotional enough for all of us. I did not need to add to it.

  Newman said, “Duke, the danger is over. We can all stand down.”

  A nervous tic started under one of Leduc’s eyes, and the tremor that ran down his hands was strong enough that the barrel of his gun scraped against the bars. “You saw Ray’s body,” he said in a voice that was choked with emotion.

  “I did,” Newman said, his voice gentle, the way you’d talk to a spooked horse or a jumper on a ledge or a man with a gun.

  Frankie said, “Duke, what’s wrong with you? Just lower your gun. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over, Frankie. It won’t be over until someone pays for Ray’s death.”

  His face showed so many raw emotions, I couldn’t read them all, but he was still thinking about pulling the trigger. If I hadn’t been kneeling in front of Bobby, he’d have done it even now with the danger past. Hell, he was thinking about shooting through me, and he hadn’t even seen my eyes change. As far as Leduc knew, I was just a U.S. Marshal here to help with the case, and he was still thinking about shooting me just so he could shoot his prisoner. I’d thought that being a fellow officer would mean something. It usually did, but as I looked into his face, I knew it didn’t mean enough.

  “Duke, put down the gun now,” Newman said, and his voice was as serious as the gun he’d raised to point at the sheriff.

  I shifted my gaze enough to see Deputy Frankie. Would she threaten Newman to back her boss, or would she understand that Duke had lost it?

  “Duke,” she said, “please, there’s no threat from the prisoner, and you’re pointing a gun at a fellow police officer.”

  “Duke,” Newman said, voice sliding down to a lower tone than I’d ever heard from him, “do not make me do this.”

  “I know you, Win. You won’t shoot me.”

  “I like you, Duke, but if you think I’ll stand here and let you shoot another marshal, an unarmed fellow officer, then you are full of shit.”

  “Duke,” Frankie said, “you taught me not to let my emotions get in the way of the job. It’s a rookie mistake.”

  I watched the emotions war across his face. Either he’d been closer to Ray than anyone knew, or he had some personal history with lycanthrope-related crime. You had either to have lost someone to a beast or to have witnessed something that haunted your dreams to have this kind of reaction. Or, like Frankie had said, be a rookie. Leduc wasn’t a rookie.

  “Stand down, Duke!” Newman said, and his sidearm was pointed very steadily at the sheriff’s head. If Leduc pulled the trigger he might miss us, but Newman wouldn’t miss. He was too close. If he pulled the trigger, the town would be looking for a new sheriff.

  The gun lowered as the tension ran out of Leduc. It was as if all the strong emotions just leaked away and what was left on his face was decades older, the skin pale. He was shaking visibly as he went for the door that led out to the offices.

  I waited for the door to close behind him and then said, “Get me out of this cell.”

  Deputy Frankie started to fumble in her pocket for the keys while trying to balance the shotgun. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Newman used his free hand to take the shotgun so she could get the keys out. He was still holding his gun in his other hand. I appreciated that he hadn’t holstered it yet. Leduc could still come back through the door, and I didn’t think any of us was sure what would happen if he did.

  I turned to Bobby. “I don’t believe you killed your uncle, so hold on to your humanity. Don’t shift. Don’t give them an excuse to kill you before we can prove you’re innocent. Okay?”

  He nodded, and then he hugged me. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, and hugged him back.

  Deputy Frankie got the door open. I walked out through the door and let out a long, sharp breath. I’d come close to dying more than once, but not like that, not from friendly fire.

  “I’ve never seen Duke lose it like that,” Frankie said as she made sure the cell locked securely behind me.

  “Me either,” Newman said.

  I started collecting my guns, which were in an unceremonious heap on the floor now. Frankie had needed her hands free. I started putting my weapons in place and even checked that the 9mm was still loaded, as if somehow magically the bullets would have all disappeared. You always assume a gun is loaded, as if the ammunition fairy was real and would load your empty gun when you weren’t looking, but now I needed the reassurance of just handling my weapons before I put them back in place.

  “Did Leduc ever lose anyone to a shapeshifter attack?” I asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” Newman said, and then glanced at the deputy. “How about you, Frankie? You know if Duke has any bad history with supernatural citizens?”

  She shook her head. “No, or nothing bad enough to cause him to . . . I am so sorry, Marshal Blake.”

  “Is there anything happening in the sheriff’s personal life? Is he under pressure from somewhere else?” I asked.

  “Well, everyone knows about Lila, his daughter. She’s sick, really sick.”

  “She’s dying,” Newman said. “She’s got some rare form of cancer.”

  “That’s awful, and I’d say that would be pressure.”

  “Lila’s been sick for over two years. Last I knew, she wasn’t any worse than she had been,” Frankie said.

  “Would he tell you if she was?” I asked.

  Frankie looked at the floor like she was thinking, and then up to meet my eyes. “I thought so, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Uncle Ray was helping with some of the medical bills,” Bobby said.

  We all turned and looked at him as if he’d just appeared. I know it sounds weird after just being up close and risking a bullet for him, but once the cell closed, he went back to being the prisoner. I felt bad that I’d let him slip back into that category so easily. Maybe I’d been on the job too long?

  “They’ve used up the insurance that Duke gets through the town.”

  “What happens if Duke can’t pay for the treatments?”

  “I don’t know,” Bobby said. “I guess . . . I guess Lila will die.” He looked like that bothered him, and then I realized he’d probably known her all his life.

  “She’s already dying,” Newman said.

  “But without the treatments, she’ll die sooner . . . a lot sooner,” Bobby sai
d.

  “How old is she, his daughter?” I asked.

  “Twenty or maybe twenty-one,” Bobby said. He was sitting on the edge of the bunk with the blanket around him again.

  “She’s twenty-one,” Frankie said.

  “So, whoever killed Ray Marchand basically killed the sheriff’s daughter, too,” I said.

  “I think that’s how Duke sees it,” Newman said.

  “Well, fuck,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Newman said.

  “Go see if you can find Duke, and check on him,” Newman said.

  Frankie shook her head. “We’re a small force, but we’re professionals. Duke made sure of that. He left me on guard duty here, and until he tells me otherwise, I’m going to follow orders. I know that you think he’s lost it, and maybe he has, but until I’m sure, I’ll stay at my post.”

  “He must be a good man for you to be that loyal to him,” I said.

  “He is, and I hope you get to see how good a cop he is and don’t judge him just on the last few minutes.”

  “I hope I get to see him at his best, too.”

  “All right,” Newman said, and his voice was heavy, “we’ll go check on Duke and then drive out to the crime scene.”

  “Don’t tell him that I told you Uncle Ray was paying Lila’s medical bills. Duke hated taking the money.”

  “Are you seriously telling me that you’re worried about the sheriff’s hurt pride after he nearly shot you?” I asked.

  “He’s been sheriff here as long as I remember.”

  “He’s a good man,” Frankie said.

  “No one should have to bury their child. That’s what Uncle Ray said when he talked about it at home to Joshie and me.”

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked from one to the other of them. I glanced up at Newman, and he answered my unasked question.