Mercy Blade (42 page)

Beast roared up over me. Filling my vision, her scream echoing inside my head as her killing teeth tore through the gray place and took me by the throat.

 

I panted. Little puffs of breath. Painpainpain beating with heart. Tilted head and let helmet fall to ground. Swiveled ears to hear, rotating both, searching for wolves. Pack hunters. Only silence. No cars. No soft feet padding close. I fought pack hunters once before, in hunger times. Killed many. But lost hunting territory. Humans and pack killed all prey. Mountains on fire killed rest. Did not want to fight pack again.

I sniffed breeze. Smelled rats, many. Stray cat. Smell of yellow jacket nest in ground, sound of buzzing nearby. Painful stingers like big teeth. Manure from horses and cows. Smell of chickens. Close. But no pack. Pack had dead to mourn. Was safe for now.

Looked around. Huffed breath. Was lying in Jane blood and Jane clothes, pelt sticky. Needed food inside Bitsa, for shift. But Bitsa was on side, food underneath. Stupid Jane. I pulled back paws from boots, paws and claws pushing on dead cow skin. Stood, back paws inside more cow skin, front paws inside Jane jacket. Jane guns and Jane claws of steel tangled in cow. Pulled self out of stupid human clothes. Saw bullet drop from side to ground and pawed it.
Ugly man guns
. Shook pelt free, hacked. Shook again, standing in sunlight, free of Jane except for her blood and her gold necklace. It bounced against my neck.

Still no wolves. I sniffed guns, holding head low to ground, inspecting big shotgun. Jane’s favorite. Vampire killer. Now wolf killer. Better than killing teeth and claws. I huffed, disgusted, smelling fired gun. Stinks. But still better. Beast never killed three wolves in one day. Jane was good hunter.

I clamped on butt with teeth, far away from killing mouth of gun. Pulled into brush, out of sight of humans. Pulled rest of guns too. And Jane’s clothes, filled with knives—Jane’s claws. Left Jane’s bike. Bigger than dead cow. Too hard to hide. I held head to air, sniffing. Turned in slow circle. Scent of water nearby, stagnant and full of crawly things, too small to hunt. Smell of animals and farm on slow wind. Chickens. Many chickens. Saliva flooded mouth at thought of chickens. White feathers tasted bad, but meat beneath tasted good. Blood tasted good. Hunger held on to belly like killing claws. Thirst squirmed like snake in belly. I moved into brush, padding toward smells. Good smells. Found water. Slurped water, frogs, wiggly things, drowned squirming snakes of thirst. Plopped beside little pool and groomed pelt, sticky with Jane’s drying blood. But belly ached.

Changing from Jane to Beast, or Beast to Jane, was always hard. When dying, was harder still. When sun was up and moon was sleeping, was impossible to shift shape, unless death was near. When Beast was dying, death gave power to shape-change, no matter time of day or night. Jane understood. Skinwalker-magic. The magic of her kind.

But changing gave pain. Belly twisted in talons of predator called
hunger
. Pelt forgotten, rose and followed scent of food.

Trees thickened and branches weaved together in sky overhead. I padded faster, found tree with low limb and leaped, climbing high. Reaching with claws. Thick tail circling for balance. Caught bark and pushed/pulled up tree, shredding bark. Pine filled nose. Like Gee. Bird Gee. Reached limb and found balance on it. Looked down. Around. Found farm. Chicken farm.
Jane still asleep. Chickens are mine.

 

I/Beast could count to five. There were many-more-than-five chickens in long chicken house. Two humans and two dogs in yard. Big truck full of many chickens in street. Human men moved cages of chickens from house to truck. Sound and smells all wrapped together, good chicken smells and stinky man smells and truck exhaust breath, and loud, ugly noises and good chicken noises. Dogs yapping. One raced in circles, chasing tail. Stupid dog.

Wind hid my scent, drawing it away. I crouched in brush to leave no prints, beside house full of chickens, unmoving, pelt hiding me. Waiting. Man dropped cages. More than five chickens got away, weak and sickly-looking, big bodies wobbling on weak legs. Making sounds of pain. Human let prey get away. Stupid humans.

Three chickens ran toward Beast. I rushed out of brush and grabbed chicken, killing teeth snapping around neck, jaws crunching down. Taste/smell of meat and blood, hot in mouth. Dropped chicken and snapped neck of second chicken. Grabbed both. Ran.

Bounded back into bushes. Raced away. Paws on animal path. Dogs barked and raced after. Humans shouted. I reached trees and raced up high into limbs. Fast, claws strong. Leaping, tail shifting, helping with stable landing, placed food in branches and leaped to ground. Hid. Dogs raced after. Two dogs. One big with big teeth. One small with stinky rotten teeth. Raced past. Noses to ground. Came back. Circled, circled. Never looked up. Stupid dogs.

Little dog with stinky rotten teeth stopped. Quivered. Nose off of ground. Snout aiming at me. I growled. Leaped, pushing off with back feet. Claws half sheathed, teeth showing. Swiped at dog. Hit his side with paw and saw him fly. Hit tree. I screamed and swiped at big dog. He yelped. Ran away. Tail tucked between legs. I screamed with victory. Trotted to dog beneath tree. Not dead. Claws half sheathed did not kill.

Batted him over. No blood. Breathing. I leaned close and huffed, learning his scent. Licked his body, harsh rasping tongue pulling on dog pelt. Licked his face and eyes, like kit, slow to move after birth. He stirred, whimpered. Good enough to make Jane happy. Jane liked dogs. Stupid pack hunters.

 

Tall in trees, far away, I ate chickens. Meat and bones and pulling sinew. Feathers slick with blood. Beaks pointy, crunched like small bone. Feet crunched, all bone and skin. Chicken gone. Licked snout. Found feathers stuck to muzzle. Settled to groom away dried Jane blood and fresh tasty chicken blood. Took nap in sun, high in tree. Free of Jane.

Woke and listened to forest. Bird, turkey, armadillo, possum, rats, rabbits. Watched hawk hunt, soaring overhead, diving toward prey. Watched sun drop toward end of sky. Groomed self again, removing last of Jane blood.

Jane woke to taste of her blood on my tongue, her mind slow.
Crap. What was that?

Werewolves.
I hacked in disgust. White feather blew from lips and floated on air.
Pack hunters. Jane killed three. Good hunter
.

But why?
Jane raised up, trying to be alpha.
Werewolves out here . . . Before dusk. Crap, crap,
crap
! They were coming from Leo’s! They already hit him. Maybe hours ago. I didn’t smell Rick on the wolves. Did you smell Rick? We have to get to Leo’s!

No Rick-smell. Long walk. Hot day.
I rose and dropped limb from limb to the ground. Went back to the puddle of water. Drank. Slowly.
I am alpha. Not Jane.

Jane went silent, stuffing anger down in brain like paw on kit.
Pretty please?

I hacked.
Long walk. Hot day
. And started toward Leo’s den. Slowly.

 

Jane looked through Beast eyes at Leo’s clan home. Watched barn, house, land all around house. Horses stood in center of field in tight circle. Prey animals, stomping, snorting. Shaking manes. Smell of fear on air. Smell of wolves strong, but not new. Not fresh.

Jane thought,
Why aren’t there any people? Last time I was here, I must have seen ten people in the garden and barn. At least the sheriff’s deputy is here.

The deputy was standing on front porch, stick in hand, staring through open door. After long moment, he turned, went back to his car. Made punching motion and put cell phone to his ear. “Roul. Yeah. I see. You think you got her subdued? Can you keep her that way? Shit man, we weren’t supposed to act until moonrise. Sun screws up the stasis spell. If this gets out before dark, when we can get back in—Yeah. Right. Okay.” Deputy punched button on phone and got in car. Started engine, low growl like cat, and drove slowly away, tires rolling over small rocks and shells. As car drew even, smelled werewolf stink.

Deputy was werewolf.

Yeah
, Jane thought, surprised.
I recognize him from the biker’s bar. And smart me, I told Sloan to send a deputy to Leo’s. If the wolves got one of their own in as a cop, then they’ve been planning this return to Leo’s territory for a long time, maybe just waiting for the opportunity.
She went silent inside of head. Worried.

I huffed and lay chin on paws, peering through tall grass. Smelled blood on air, strange blood. Like blood dropped on hot stone, vampire blood and pack blood, mixed. Scorched and burnt. And smell of magic. All coming through open front door.

I hunched shoulders and shuffled paws forward, through grass. Raised belly off ground and crouched toward house, through flowers, over shredded bark, moving slowly, like stalking, but no prey to pounce on. Moving toward Leo house and blood smell.

At bottom of front steps, smell of magic and blood grew stronger, smells flowing on air from open door of Leo house.
Big-cats do not hunt for prey in daylight. Dusk hunter. Night hunter. Dawn hunter. Best under pregnant moon, full and bright on ground. Not day hunter, to creep up man steps to man house to see inside.
But lifted paw and set it on bottom step. Pawpawpaw up steps fast, sheriff-deputy-wolf-smell beneath paws. Ready to leap from steps into bushes. But no need. No people moved. House was silent. Smell of blood and magic growing stronger.

Witch magic
, Jane thought.
Which makes no freaking sense. Witches and vamps don’t work together unless the negotiations are a lot further along than I thought. But then, nothing about vamps makes a lot of sense. Let me see inside.

I padded to front door. Looked inside. White marble floor was splattered in blood. A young female lay on stone, eyes wide, one hand lifted up. Blood looked fresh, wet and new. Much blood. Female did not breathe. Heart did not beat. But she did not look dead and blue.

Not yet
, Jane thought.
Nettie. She served me breakfast once. She helped me with the search of Tyler’s room. She can’t be twenty-five
.

Careful to avoid blood, I padded with hunter’s crouch into house, stubby tip of tail jerking with Jane’s worry. With fear of being in man house in Beast form. Walked across bird of prey in stone.
Leo’s heraldic device
, Jane thought, studying bird.
Whether that thing is an Anzu or not, I don’t know. But it isn’t a phoenix. How could I have missed that?

Inside foyer, in living room, found more bodies, looking dead, no breath. Many bleeding from bite marks. Not alive. But not dead. Afraid. Standing or sitting in small groups, looking at nothing, as if they had been herded into room like sheep.

Maids, enforcers, gardeners, grooms, the butler, and chef
, Jane thought.
Stasis spells everywhere. The werewolves attacked, bit a bunch of them, and put stasis spells over it all. Spells they bought from a witch. But the deputy said the spell went wrong in the daylight. But . . . What do they want?

To take over as alpha of city
, I thought.
Working with Leo’s enemies.

Yeah. Okay. Power play. I get why they bit Leo’s blood-servants. Turn them and take away his support system. But why kill Nettie?

Girl ran? Predators would chase; instinct for chasing. Girl fought? Predators would subdue. Kill may be accident. Or wolf-bitch, jealous. Like Jane with Ricky Bo.
Heard sly tone in voice, hacked with laughter.

I blew through nose and padded across room, around stasis spell, careful to avoid blood droplets. Into a corner where something gleamed. Metal. Silvery. Jane’s chain-mail throat collar. It was mangled, torn by predator’s killing teeth.

Jane stared, thinking.
They wanted someone to think I was part of all this.

Pack hunters planned to make Leo think you are enemy. Make Leo think you turn against him
. Jane was surprised. I snorted again. Sometimes Jane stupid.

Take it. And let’s get out of here
.

I lifted necklace in mouth and turned, tail swinging. Started from room. Heard click. Froze, dropped belly to ground. Useless move. No tall grass to hide behind. Belly-crawled to sound, to doors, like closet doors in Jane’s house-den. Door was cracked open. Click inside.

Maybe more chickens. Maybe rabbits! Clicking inside. Unsheathed claws on right paw and caught door, silver collar dangling from jaw. Pushed it open with soft squeak of metal.

Sweet!
Jane thought, pushing into front of brain, taking over as alpha.
Leo’s security system
.

I stood on back legs and put front paws on desk. Lights blinked. Light box with picture showed Leo, his image fuzzy and reddish, like blood flowing in stream. He was awake and sitting on a bed, holding his arm close to his body. Blood was drying on his clothes, much, life-stealing blood. Spell over Leo’s bed was red. A witch spell like one from Jane’s Molly.
Hedge of thorns
.

The time stamp is moving forward. This is real-time
, Jane thought.
Leo’s in his lair, awake, and injured, bleeding
.
Behind a
hedge of thorns
spell. And what is that, in the corner?
It looked like part of a human hand, fisted.
His attacker is there with him, caught in a stasis spell. Which makes no sense because they passed me on the road and set up the ambush.

As if he could hear Jane thoughts, Leo turned to the monitor camera and stared, his eyes ringed with pain like prey. I thought at Jane,
Protective spell, in his den. Evangelina gave it to him?
Cat eyes fell on small object on floor at Leo’s feet, inside
hedge of thorns
.
Stake. Enemy attacked.

And it’s silver-tipped.
Crap.
It’s one of mine, one I lost at Booger’s Scoot. Leo needs help, but I can’t call for help in cat form. I can’t shift until dusk, and we can’t risk breaking the spells before dusk or Leo might just up and die. Again. Crap. This sucks.