Skinwalker

CHAPTER 22 All that I wanted

I checked in with Molly, got her voice mail, and left a message. Bored, I checked my e-mail and spent some time on the Internet searching local society/gossip pages and a few online sites dedicated to local and state politics. I discovered that Anna was scheduled to attend an event in the French Quarter’s four-star Marriott tonight. I pulled up maps, did a little math on distances, made notes, and hoped Beast could follow Anna home, or wherever she spent the night.

I took a nap until midnight, woke, and stripped down. Time to shift and go after the woman sleeping with Rick and the liver-eater in one of his shapes. The woman who was also involved with whatever was taking place in Leo’s club. I wondered if Leo knew about that. I could have asked him—or maybe told him—about the meeting, but that info, on top of insulting him, might have been stupid. Even for me.

In the backyard, I dropped four steaks onto the ground and climbed, naked, to the top of the stones. The panther fetish necklace in hand, I checked that the small line of gold I had scored into the rock was still there. The rains had washed much of it away, and I again rubbed the gold nugget over the boulder’s stone face.

Big? Beast asked, hungry for size.

“Not yet,” I said. “But soon.” Beast said nothing to the refusal, and I sat, lotus position, the travel pack and necklace loose on my neck. I relaxed, settled onto the cool stone, and quickly sank into Beast’s snake. The shift was easy tonight, dropping down, into the quiet rhythm of drums. The notes of flutes. A pulling of muscles and bones, a sharp gray tingling, as if I stuck my fingers into a light socket, and faint nausea after. Almost painless.

I stretched and huffed at ugly man-smells: breath of cars, stink of garbage, mold on walls of man-dens, paint, plastic, upholstery, scent of dog urine. Yappy mutts, fast snack. Padded down stones, bypassed sharp broken stone from when she became Jane after bird. Smell of dead cattle made belly rumble. Huffed, pulling blood and fat scent into mouth. Cold meat, but hunger demanded. Steak was fast bites, swallowing down chunks. Beneath was larger piece of meat, thick. Paw on top to tear and rend. Better when hot and fresh. Needed fresh kill.

Soft thump sounded. Whirled. Cat on fence, hunched. I hissed. Fangs bright in night. My territory. Cat yowled. Fell off other side. I huffed with laughter. Stupid cat. Jane ate cat when bird. Not very tasty, but fresh. I wanted to hunt deer. Kill and eat.

Hunt for Anna.

She wanted to hunt female who had sex with man. I ignored command and finished last of dead meat. Licked paws, groomed face. Drank from fountain of stone vampire.

Hunt! Her command, urgent.

I jumped fence and padded around den, slinking through shadow. Down street, along walls, beneath ledges. Good place to hunt, sit on ledge, watch for prey. I jumped from man-path to chair, to upper ledge. Metal all around, to keep clumsy humans from falling. Made it hard to drop on prey. Stupid humans.

Hunt!

I huffed in disgust, dropped to smooth ground, still warm from hot day. Jogged down street, keeping to shadows, checking for humans and yappy dogs. Sitting still when humans drew near. Moving on after.

Hotel in view. Marriott. Too much man-lights. Faint trace of Anna-human on air, fresh, moving, in car with human man. Not Rick. Liver-eater? I raced down street, cornered into another. Saw/smelled Anna in car window. Headed toward liver-eater territory, over river. I crouched in shadows, watched for truck. Two came by, too tall. Another with picture of fish and crabs on side. Smelled wonderful. I licked mouth and gathered feet in tight. Truck moving like lumbering cow, slow, closer. Jumped to car trunk, raced up car roof, leaped. Landed on lumbering-cow truck. Settled to ride, crouching low. Claws on metal strip with bumps. Smell of seafood. Stomach rumbled. I lifted nose into air, smelling fish, crab. River drew near, with Anna-human scent, ahead. Lumbering cow-fish truck followed Anna-human across bridge.

Look! Remember!

I saw sign, WESTBANK EXPRESSWAY. Dropped into scent-bliss again, mouth open, face lifted into wind, taking in wonderful smells of fish, dead things, alligator, birds. Much prey here. Good smells. But watched signs, remembering. GENERAL DEGAULLE DRIVE. Cow-fish truck turned off, away from Anna-scent.

Hunt, she commanded.

I huffed and jumped from wonderful cow-fish truck to roof of parked car. Trotted back to General DeGaulle Drive. Found Anna-human scent. Trotted after. Her scent turned on new street, sign in man-words, WOODLAND HWY. New part of town, south and west of French Quarter. Far from the liver-eater’s known hunting range.

Cut across overgrown, marshy land. To English Turn Parkway. Big human-dens everywhere. Stink of chemicals. Golf course, she whispered. I trotted over bridge, chemical-smelling water. Found house where Anna-human and male entered. Anna-human scent everywhere. In garden. Her den. Kit. Mate.

Daughter. Husband. The mayor, she whispered.

I paced perimeter in shadow of house. Lapped from fountain, water spouting from fish-mouth, but tasting of city water, not fish. House dark. Pool in back, man-lights blue in depth. I was hot, so waded in, cool water rising. I sighed, heat from run easing away. Paddled to far side and back, her pack floating. Refreshed, I stepped from pool, shook stink away. Tired, I stepped onto long chair, sank onto padding. Lounge chair, she said. I rested, tongue grooming smelly pool water from face, paws.

Inside, phone rang. Human-man answered, deep voice close, near door. “I know it’s late,” tinny voice said through phone, far away. Rick? Jane asked.

“I’m still up, Ricky-bo. What I can do you for?” Both humans laughed.

I coughed softly. No humor in words. Fake Cajun accent, she thought. Still no humor. No prey to play with.

“I need some info,” Rick said.

“Of course, I’ll do what I can. How can I help?”

“I ran into Anna at an event and she said you were helping a vampire clan buy up land along Privateer Boulevard in Barataria. I got me some friends who might like to sell, housing prices being so low and all.”

“And you want the vamps to pay you bigger money than current market prices.”

“And I’d like my name kept out of it, if possible. Put it all in Anna’s name for now, like you’re doing with your other land deal.”

Silence for a moment. “She tell you ’bout my other land deal, my Anna did?”

“Yeah, right,” Rick said. “Over pillow talk. I was down at the Notarial Archive Office on another case and came across her name on a dozen different land deals. I put it together. The Hornets need another stadium, a swamp land-use law is in committee, and you just happen to be buying up swamp property out southwest of the city, property that I figure will be drained by the Corps of Engineers in a year or two. Meantime, you’re getting it cheap. No skin off my nose. I just want a cut of my friends’ deal if the vamps will pay up. And you are the man when it comes to dealing with vamps.”

Hornets? I saw hornet, stinger sharp, vicious. Hornet nest, round, vibrating, high in tree.

She chuckled in the dark of deep mind. Basketball team, she thought. If I’d known about the Hornets, the land in the wife’s name might have made sense. This is why I don’t like to do business in a strange town. Not enough background info to put the pieces together.

Inside, more speaking. “I can mebbe do you some good there, bro,” the mayor said. “You come by the office, yes?” The deep voice moved away.

Night sounds grew loud. I wanted to listen, but voices were gone. I rolled over, rubbing wet off, on chair. Paws in air, squirming, scratching itchy back. Felt good.

Footsteps paused inside house. Door opened, breaking silence. I rolled-leaped-landed in shrubbery, on front paws, back feet following, close together. Silent. Big leaf hid face. Something huffing, feet pattering. Running to far side of pool. I leaned out. Focused on little dog. Poodle. Male. Three-week-kit-sized. Curly, water-swimmer hair, puffy. Raised leg, let loose stream of aromatic urine. I pulled feet closer. Intent on dog. Food.

No! she demanded. Frustrated, I drew in air, faint hiss.

Dog looked up, sniffed. Put nose down, scenting. Hackles rose. Dog followed Beast scent-trail to pool, to splashes. Man-scent-perfume on dog, stank on wind. Dog raced to chair. Saw me in bushes. Started barking. Danger! Danger! Predator hereherehere! Danger!

“Sparky! Stop that!” deep-voice-man—mayor—shouted from door.

“What is it, honey?” Anna-human said.

Come out! Trespasser! Killkillkill! dog barked.

I gathered self for killing attack. Hissed, soft, full of threat. Eyes on dog.

No! She rose up, forced me down.

“Your stupid dog is barking,” deep-voice said. “If he wakes the damn neighbors—”

“It’s probably another possum. Come on, Sparky.” Anna-human walked out into night, little shoes tapping.

I turned hungry eyes to her. Not a possum. I am Beast!

No! She held control tight. Forced down killing instinct. We fought. I showed killing fangs, white in man-light. Hissed. Little yappy dog yelped, ran to Anna-human. She picked up snack-dog and tap-tapped back inside. From safety, she said, “Look at all the water. I bet Sparky heard the neighbor’s teenage kid out here again.”

“Damn stupid dog. All we need is a drowning lawsuit,” deep-voice grumbled. “I’ll call the Demarcos in the morning.”

Door closed. Outside lights went off. Pool lights still glowed. Killkillkillkillkill! Stupid dog barked inside, thinks it could kill Big Cat. I shook free of Jane’s control. Not possum! Not human child! I am Beast! Need to scream it to the winds!

Not now, she thought. Woods nearby. Hunt. Image of fat rabbit. Blood, fresh meat. Killing claws sinking deep.

Yessssss. I turned tightly, slunk out of backyard, along property line, into trees. Strong rabbit smell. Nose to ground, filled entire head with rabbit-scent. And stalked.

I ate rabbit—blood and flesh and milk from her teats filling mouth. Then tracked back to rabbit nest, under fallen tree. Dug out young ones, screams and cries bringing pleasure with feast. Jane slunk back, away from blood feast. She was not hunter. Was not mother to kits. Was only human. Kit-less. She was only thief.

Satisfied, I allowed her to surface. She was silent. Unhappy. Pictured den. Katie’s freebie house. She thought, Let’s go home. I wanted long hunt. Smelled deer. Found tracks, small, dainty, smelled of doe. She commanded, Home. I growled. Turned toward city, grudging, not happy. She thought, Maybe we’ll find a deer on the way.

I huffed with satisfaction. Deer!

Dawn was lightening the sky when I came to myself on the garden rocks, steaming in the cool air. We had found no deer and Beast had been obstinate, not wanting to let go, wanting to hunt, wanting blood and meat, wanting to remain in cat form after dawn. Beast had never been so difficult to restrain and now she sulked, her anger tainting my mood. Her claws opened and pressed into my mind, deliberately hurting. She had wanted to eat the dog.

Bird ate cat, Beast muttered, sulking, still mad because I had shifted into a bird, and the bird got to eat whatever she wanted.

“I’ll let you hunt,” I murmured. “Soon. I promise.”

Bird ate cat, Beast repeated. Saw in Jane’s mind. She slunk away.

I half crawled into the house, limbs so tired they quivered with exertion. I fixed a bowl of oatmeal and ate without tea. Clambered into bed, exhausted.

I woke slowly, the sun setting, sending slanted rays across the room, through cracks in the blinds. The mattress was soft under me, firm deeper down, a far better quality mattress than the one in my apartment near Asheville. Not something I could afford getting used to. I had money, but it was invested, not for creature comforts.

I rolled over, resettled, and pulled a pillow under my neck, letting my mind wander. Rick LaFleur called the mayor at home at night, probably with Anna’s intervention. Anna who was sleeping with the mayor, Rick, and the liver-eater in an unknown form, unless the mayor was the liver-eater—but his smell wasn’t right, so I didn’t think he was the creature.

Rick was investigating the vamps, but what else was he doing? Not acting as the mayor’s eyes, clearly; the mayor didn’t know what Rick was up to. Maybe cop’s eyes. Or he was after my bounty. Or investigating the vamps for an unknown third party. I’d have to keep him close.

Beast sent an image to me, blurred by sleep. Rick, on his back, her paws on his chest, claws nicking the flesh at his throat. I chuckled softly, happy just to have her talking to me. She sent me an image of a deer, and slid back into dreams. I rolled out of bed.

I had to hunt again tonight. If I wanted to win the ten-day kill bonus, I had to locate and kill the rogue within forty-eight hours. I repacked the contents of my travel bag, hanging the sour-smelling, pool-water-wet clothes up to dry, rolling a pair of gauzy pants, T-shirt, undies, and thin-soled shoes around the crosses and stakes and rezipping it.

I ate, set raw meat on the lawn, stripped, and climbed the rocks. I had never shifted so many nights in a row. I hadn’t expected it to tire me this much. Hadn’t expected it to give Beast so much control and/or make her so stubborn. Hadn’t expected tonight’s pain. It ripped into me, slashing, like claws at prey. Beast raced into the gray void, pushing the change, forcing. Rocks cracked and split, sounding like thunder.

I rolled from rocks. Broken rock rained down around paws. Big paws. Flexed them. Recurved claws slid from sheaths. Bigger. I was big. I like big. Big Cat. Big as liver-eater .

Jane was afraid of big. What have you done? she asked.

I snarled, angry; pressed paw onto her, pushing down, claws at her throat, her belly to sky, Jane beta, me alpha. Her necklace and travel pack were too tight. Not good. But better to be big. Big Cat. Jumped fence, raced from yard, into night. I found truck, rode across river, muzzle high in air, taking in scents. Truck swayed, motion soothing. Hunt, I sang. We hunt.

Moon was growing fat. Not yet pregnant hunting moon. Gave enough light to see water far below, moon reflection broken on river surface, like droplets of blood, scattered by wind.

Truck turned. Jane saw sign—BAYOU SEGNETTE STATE PARK. I launched off truck, to ground, moving fast. Hit. Rolled-rolled-rolled. Into ditch. Brackish water. Stink of dog filth. I sprang out, dog filth all over. Blood splatters showed tale. Dog hit on road, flung down. Dead dog—blood and entrails—spread up incline. Shook pelt, hissing, irritated. I raced into shadows. She was amused. I was not. I do not smell like dog. Will not. She comforted. I slunk along ground looking for water. Pools, fresh, free of dead dog, were ahead. Look at sign, she asked, properly beta to my alpha. I looked up. DRAKE AVE. Moved on; found water and splashed in.

Rolled to clean off dead dog. Something moved in water. Get out! she screamed. I pushed off bottom, leaped from water, forepaws spread, claws grasping. Landed. Spun. Drops scattered. From water, wide jaws reached. Wicked teeth rising from pool. I hissed. Hacked.

Alligator, she said.

Alligator bad.

I don’t like them either, she agreed, fear in her tone. Hunt the liver-eater? Please?

Liver-eater bad. Long time since tasted liver-eater. Watched Jane in mind at words. She went still—fear-prey still. I jogged into shadows, watching her in mind. Cat and mouse.

Long minute later, she asked, tone fearful, When did you taste a liver-eater?

I hacked. Remembered. Image eased up from dark of mind, hidden from Jane for many seasons. Old woman. Long gray hair, chin and nose and yellow eyes like Jane, piercing.

Not old. A woman in her sixties, maybe, she thought, her mind uneasy. She smells rotten, like the liver-eater we chase. Fear swelled fast in back of Jane’s mind, like belly of dead prey in summer sun. She thought, I don’t remember this. . . . I hacked with amusement; shared past.

Crone held knife. Fire crackled near, smoke rising high, herbed and bitter. Night was cold with winter, trees bare like bones. A girl lay before old woman, bound, gagged, arms over head, tied to stakes at hands and feet, stinking with terror. Eyes blue in firelight. Blond hair. Girl wasn’t human. Smelled of new thing. Learned later, scent of vampire girl, I thought.

Crone leaned in. Movement made liver-eater scent rise rank on air, rotten meat. She nicked girl with blade, a stabbing cut, pointed, deep. Girl screamed behind gag, face bleeding. Crone gathered blood on finger, carried it to mouth. Sucked it. Made another cut, another. Tasting each. Crone cut girl’s clothes with knife, exposing belly and breasts. Girl squirmed, but stakes and ropes held her. Girl vomited. Unable to release it, she breathed it down. Her breath sounded wet. Her bowels released old blood stench, rising with herbs in fire.

I eased closer to ledge, claws extended, gripping rock as if gripping flesh to shred. Crone raised knife. Brought it down into girl’s belly. Cutting. Bound girl screamed, keening sound, like kit in mortal danger, held in paws of male big cat, or under claws of rival female invading territory. Crone cut deep. Girl’s squeals bounced off rock walls below. I exposed killing teeth. Eyes on knife. Crone lifted out chunk of vampire girl’s liver. Steam rose from human-meat. Crone tasted raw flesh. Bit, tearing with teeth. Blood ran down chin, over clothes.

When meat was gone, crone reached into bloody hole. Cut more. More again. Still holding knife. Girl stopped screaming, stopped moving, yet her heart still beat. For a little time. Crone ate more. Kidney. Part of lung. Girl stopped breathing. Heart fell still. Crone reached into body cavity and pulled, tugged. Heart came free. Crone began to chant, eating heart.

I watched as energies gathered on crone, silver gray, full of sparkles. Power touched her. Fire that did not burn. Bones slid, twisted, flesh growing lighter. Hair growing pale, blond. She stole young girl. Took her form. Bad smell in air. Much later, understood it was scent of evil, I thought.

Anger erupted in my spirit, anger at evil I did not understand. I leaped, silent. Driving down liver-eater. Paws on back, killing teeth at neck. Biting. Breaking spine with snap of jaws. Flesh was rancid, oily, foul. Burning tongue. I spat. Turned body with swipe of paw. Ripped out throat. Spat foulness. Tore off head. Liver-eater was dead. I turned, padded into night.

Images faded. Memory was ended. Jane was silent. I placed paw on her head in joined mind. You are liver-eater, I thought, snarling. You ate me as crone ate girl.

No! She struggled. I shoved hard with paws, holding her down, claws in her spirit flesh.

I was stronger than blond vampire girl. Stronger than you. I did not die. I came into you. With you. Now we are both, I and Jane. Better than Jane alone. Better than me alone. We are strong. We are Beast. And now we are Big Cat. Very big.

She stopped struggling, fear shaking her spirit, thinking fast human-thoughts. You took mass from the minerals in the boulders. Her fear grew, skittering like squirrel claws. You performed the mass to mass, stone to stone, of complex magic. How did you do that? How much mass did you take?

I said, Found place in snake for bigger. Gene for much bigness. I took all mass I wanted. Jane fled, deep into joined spirits, hiding. I hissed, shook the last scummy water away. Pelt is thick and rich and deep. Claws are sharp and long. Hunt liver-eater. Kill another one. I padded into deeper shadows, mouth open, scent-searching for path of liver-eater. I am Big Cat. I will kill.