Skinwalker. Part 2

I ate. Long canines tearing into dead meat. Filled stomach. Cold food did not appease need to hunt. Afterward, licked blood from whiskers and face. Pack and collar in way, but . . . important. Her things.

Memory she buried under skin began to stir. Ahhh. Hunt. For one of them. Drew in night air. Delicate nostril membranes fluttering, expanding, relaxing. Many new smells, some with value, some without. Unimportant: close-by smell of flowers, fresh-turned earth, mouse cowering in boulders, small snake on brick. Important: fish, pungent, sour. Salt. Old, still water full of tiny living things. Houses, many, ancient wood and brick. Bike she rode. She-Jane.

Strolled to it, muscles long and supple. Foul smells: gasoline, rubber, metal, wax, fainter smell of new paint. Magic tingle on whiskers. Good bike. Silent-not-dead now, roaring heart still. I approved of it and of her, sitting in wind, smelling world. Fast speed, too swift for hunters to follow. Her territory wherever she wished it to be. Jane hunted wide.

Stepping with care, though new den was walled and safe from humans. Prowled garden and lower porch of house. Drank from water running over man-carved stone. A good place. I coughed softly, approving.

Hunt, the command came again, from her. Long hairs along shoulders lifted in antic.i.p.ation. Scented air. Food on breeze. Human food, dead, cooked. Human urine. Dog. Domesticated cat. Hacked in disapproval of being owned. Even she didn't own me.

Smells of den grounds settled in olfactory memory. Went to pot. Sniffed cloth trapped there. Drew in scent. Blood. Fear. Humans, three. Alive when blood spilled. One female, ovulating, ready to mate. One man, old, wizened. Likely stringy, tough. New smell to skin.

Melanin, Jane whispered. He was a black man.

Last one was male, no melanin, young, healthy. All smelled of fear.

Beneath it all . . . was scent of rogue. Drew it in over tongue, over roof of mouth. Isolating. Parsing scent. Old. Very, very old. Anger. Madness. Many scents in layers, different parts of rogue.

Complex scent, she thought. Like many scents overlapping, compounded. How strange. And what is that smell? Image of her wrinkling weak, useless human nose.

Smell of madness, I thought at her. Strong. Smell of decay, rot. Rot . . . Ahhh. I remembered. Liver-eater. Long years since smelled a liver-eater. Felt her puzzlement. Pushed it away. Sucked in scent, opening mouth and pulling air over fluid-filled sacs in roof of mouth. Tongue extending, lips curling back. Tasting. Scenting.

Set liver-eater scent signature in memory. Named it mad one.

Complex, she thought. Compounded scent signature, many individual scent molecules, pheromones and elements make up its essence. I've never smelled anything like it.

Many, yes. Many scents for mad one. In a single bound, leaped to top of boulders. Small mountain. Nothing like my territory-no tall hills, deep creva.s.ses. Easy hunt here in land of flatness. No challenge. Tail-twitching disdain for flatness, no tall trees and wild streams. Gathered self. Jumped to top of wall. Standing. Four feet in line on brick. Crouched, making smaller target. There. Scented vampire. Easy hunt. Only feet away.

No, her voice came.

Drew in night air again. Scent was wrong. This one female. Kill it anyway?

No. Hunt the rogue, her human memory whispered.

Dropped to ground, tail twitching. Eager. Liked hunt. Liked challenge. Liked danger. Moved through shadows of neighbor's yard to street. No dog scent. Good place to come and go. Sat beneath big leaves of low plant, watching. Learning. Scenting.

Saw him, hidden in shadows, sitting on stoop. Watching house, preying on new den. The male she liked, human with bike. Not hunting. Lazy, giving away position. Breathing smoke, scent like scat, marking territory. Strong enough to defend her? Possible mate? If he could catch her. If he could best her. Not likely. She was strong. Beast made her so, long ago.

Felt her puzzlement. Ignored it. Ignored her. Pondered, breath a soft, thrumming pant of throat tissues. Long past time for her to mate. If he could catch her. Fun.

Moved through shadows, into night. Humans and pets still about. Stupid little dogs barked. Hairy things, smelling of human perfume, dead food, rotten teeth. Scented me, scented Beast. All fell silent. Crouched, tails down. Scuttled away. I hunted, padding through darkness, feral and sleek. Night fully fallen. Humans never saw.

The French Quarter, territory she wanted to hunt, was small. Streets in squares. Buildings built close, squeezed together. Prey could not escape. Hidden gardens. Exhaust. Alcohol, fresh and sweet, and old and sour. Tar on streets, stinky human world.

Sound of music everywhere, loud, raucous. Horns, drums-drums, like sound of beating heart, racing in fear, ready to be eaten. Smell of money, drugs. Pong of s.e.x without mating. Lonely s.e.x. Many female humans standing on tall spikes. Easy prey. Stores filled with paint and canvas, stone and metal. Much food and smell of sleeping. Restaurants and hotel, she thought at me. Smells of her world.

It stank. But underneath stink, other smells sat. Under reek of sewage and stench of dirty river. Under spices humans cook into food. Under odors of humans themselves, perfumed and breathing smoke. Scents of vampires. Many.

Vampire stench was part of ground, part of earth. Their ashes wafted along street, carried in air. Their bones, ground to powder, settled into cracks. Vampire territory, for longer than I lived, even counting time of hunger when I was alpha and Jane was beta. Didn't know numbers beyond five, but there were many more than five vampires. I marked their territories, setting Beast scent. A challenge.

Centuries, the thought came from her. They have been here for centuries. A long time by human reckoning. Too long for me to understand, or care. Turned back to hunt. Prowled, hiding often in night, scenting, searching. Finding hiding places as moon crossed sky. Crafty, silent, good hunter.

Saw/smelled vampire. Walking alone. Unnoticed by humans. Gliding. Predator. I hunched down in shadow. Jane wished for a cross and stake, Christian symbols to kill evil.

Not evil, I thought at her. Predator. Like Beast. She curled lips as if thought was spoiled meat. Together, we watched vampire stroll out of sight.

Long before dawn, scented old blood. Found street where mad one took down many humans, ate best parts. An alley. Narrow, confined. Walls, straight up like water gorge, but without bold river. Strong reek of blood, blood, blood, much blood. Pong of wasted meat. Scented mad one she hunted. Trying to drink enough to find health again. It was dying.

They cannot die, she whispered.

Dies, I thought back at her. This one sick. Smell of rot.

Above its reek I smelled angry, frightened humans morning after. Telltale stink of guns. Hacked softly at remembered smell. She liked guns. She hunted with guns. I remembered other. Long barrels, gunpowder, pain, fear, scream of big cat. Hated. Long ago in hunger times.

Placing paws carefully, walked through dark, under yellow ribbons, past dying flowers in tall piles. Along middle of narrow defile. Found place where ovulating female fell. And stringy old one, to her side, cobbles saturated with his need to protect, as if she were his kit, his cub. Healthy young male, three paces away. And more-than-five others. Mad one killed, ate slow.

She said, It took its time. She understood time when not measured by moon. Confusing.

Strolled back to alley entrance. Crouched low, belly held off dirty street. Humans walked past, singing, reeking of strong drink and vomit. Then gone. Searched for mad one's trail. Found none going in. None going out.

Looked up. Coughed approval. After mad one toyed with humans, after eating its fill, mad one went up, along wall like spider or squirrel. Tasty meat, squirrels. Not enough to fill belly. Mad one climbed wall like squirrel. Faint scratches where claws dug in. Worthy prey. Even I could not climb wall like this. I hacked excitement. Good hunt. Mad one powerful, smells captured in blood-stench memory. Humans tried to wash away. Could not hide it.

Heard more humans. Close. Two turned into alley. Dirty, reeking wine, sweat, filth. Humans moved in, trapping. I melted slowly into shadows. Soft warning hack. Beast here. Not hunting, but will defend.

They ignored warning. Stupid humans. They crawled into large paper box. Sounds of crackling cardboard, shifting humans. Dirty smells wafted. Their den. I had pa.s.sed it without knowing. Dropped head. Shamed. Foolish as cub. Too intent on mad one and smells of hunt, blood, kills. Foolish. Stupid. Kitten mistake.

Two humans bedded down. Sleeping in open. Easy prey if I wanted diseased, sinewy meat. They talked. Quieted. One snored.

Crept along alley to opening. Dawn coming.

"Pretty p.u.s.s.y. Come here, p.u.s.s.ycat."

Looked to side and saw human, eyes open, shining. Hand out. "Come here, p.u.s.s.ycat. I got a treat for you."

Hacked, insulted. Not domesticated. Beast big. And free.

He held out hand, gesturing. Come. Eat. "Pretty p.u.s.s.y."

She was amused. Beast sniffed, mouth open. Beef. Hamburger. Dead, cooked. Jane liked them. I padded slowly to human, shoulders arching, belly low, pads silent. Human unafraid. Drunk. Sniffed offered treat. Stared at him with predator eyes, seeing Beast reflected, golden, in his. Prey should be afraid. Was supposed to be afraid.

"Pretty p.u.s.s.y, I know you're hungry. Have some."

Took offered hamburger. Flipped it back, into throat. Meat and mayonnaise. Swallowed. Walked away. She laughed.

I padded back along own scent trail before sun rose. Important, sun rising. She couldn't take back her skin once sun rose. She would be stuck in panther form-a good thing-but she would not be grateful. The night belonged to Beast. Only night. Daytime was hers.

Leaped to top of wall. Dropped down inside garden walls. Strolled, loose limbed and satisfied. Drew in scents. Smell of rotting blood was strong-old cattle, dead, killed by others. Rot, sped up by heat, trapped by wet air. Stench of blood in cloths-slain humans and mad one. Mad one had strange blend of scents, small parts of different things, some known, some not. Sniffed at aged blood on cloth. Familiar. The hunt. Yes, good hunt. With flex of muscles, leaped to top of rocks and lay flat, belly to stone. And thought of her.

Grayness covered me. Light and shadow. Bones and sinew flowed and shifted. Cracked and snapped. Pain stabbed deep and she/I groaned with pain. For a moment, we were one. We were Beast, together.

Demo version limitation.

Demo version limitation.

Demo version limitation.

CHAPTER 6.

Paranoid sometimes pays off.

I groomed cow blood from face and paws, studying night. In mountains, moon was bright, different light but same shape. Edges sharp. Hungry moon. Not hunting moon, not round and full. There, stars were so many even Jane couldn't count them. Here, surrounded by man, moon was dull, stars few. Stars hid near man. Man and his false light.

Clean of cold beef blood, I breathed in stink of human blood and vampire spittle on cloth she left under plant bowl. Dead humans and it. The sick thing. Mad one. Short, fast sniffs drew scent deep inside. And . . . found something new. Not noticed before. Opened mouth, extended tongue, hard, lips back. Pulling scent across roof of mouth. Yessssss.

Plant pot rocked. Predator hackles rose. Placing paw on pot, batted it. Pot rolled. Scattered plant, roots, soil. Alive? Motion like porcupine. Not good eating. Pain. Careful of spines, batted again. It rolled. Injured!

Crouched. Unsheathed claws. Swatted. Hard. Pot-animal rolled to bench, hit, broke. Kill! Bounded up. Landed crushing weight on pot. Gripped broken body in claws. Soil spilled out from split like blood. Injured prey again pot, now broken. Sniffed, smelling man-blood on base. Smell of mad one. And faint odor of . . . other. Scent not in memory, not exactly. But also familiar. I rumbled deep. Spat.

Hunt. Command from deep inside. She was impatient. Shoved her down. Silent.

I flexed shoulders and leaped to fence top. Paused. Landed on other side. Crept to side of neighbor-den, beneath bushes. Into night. Circled block to front of Katie's. Mad one, rogue vamp, had been here. Heartbeats ago. Fresh/rotten scent overlay Leo's and Bruiser's. It tracked them. Waited in doorway, across street. I counted-two doors down. Watching, hiding in shadows. Rancid reek of excitement, mixed pheromones. Complex odors.

Vamp form of adrenaline, she thought. Knew about adrenaline. Tough meat if slow kill, or long chase. Better eating to lie in wait, drop on prey. Fast killing strike. But sometimes fun to chase, play with food. Difficult to choose. Tender meat or fun.

Scent called. Strange smell that almost was. Sick thing moved on. Keeping to shadows, its excitement potent. Hunting. Cars pa.s.sed. Followed when shadows fell again, nose low. Smelled prey-scent beneath mad one's footsteps. Human female, walking. s.e.x-smells, many partners. She was unmated, searching. Loneliness was forceful, buried in scent.

I remembered true mating, before she came. Before we became Beast. Her surprise stirred, deep inside. Memories of before times were buried deep, beneath after times with her. Shocked her. She struggled. I batted away thoughts like plant pot. Useless. Later. Hunt.

More-than-five blocks later, smelled fresh blood. Crouched in shadow of alley wall. Crept forward, paw, paw, paw into darkness, belly hairs dragging across dirty stone of man-road. Mad one crouched in man-light. Wrinkled. Dry. Rotted. Stink of rich new blood. Human. Eating sounds. Mad one ate without regard for thief-of-food. Gray light and blackness formed over it. It seemed to shift. To change. Wrinkles faded. Rot smell died.

I hunched close to road. Padded close. Within range. Gathered all power in. Weight balanced. Silent. Sprang. Through air. Long tail revolving for stability. Forelegs reaching. Unsheathing claws. Lips back. Mouth open. Killing teeth bared.

It looked up. Glimpse of face, pale in dim light. And was gone. Gone. Fast.

Shock flooded through. Overshot place where mad one was, and now was not. Pa.s.sed through empty air. Retracted claws. Lifted paws to break fall. Crashed hard into brick wall. Weight on one pad, bending into it. Body whipping. Hard slam. Bruising shoulder. Ramming hip. Drop to ground, eyes searching.

Strange sound. Look up. There. On ledge, one, two stories. Too high to leap. It clung to window ledge. Looking down. Laughing. I growled, spat. It jumped. High, to roof-top, running. Not hiding escape. I raised head. Screamed frustration. Echoed. Wild.

Get away, she thought. Get away and shift back. White men with guns. Image was memory, one we shared. White men hunting big cat.

Her thoughts came to fore. She was expert in man-world. For now, we shared control. Raced to alley opening. Down block. Into shadows. Creeping around tall, blocky truck. Hummer. Siren sounds. Police. Near kill.

Sped through dark, avoided human prey-groups. One witch family, celebrating, power leaking in sparkles. Almost back to Katie's. Sick scent suddenly overlapped. Fresh.

Hunched, nose low. Mad one came back this way. She went silent. I bent, took over. Drawing short steady drafts, air and scent, tongue extended to taste/smell. Looked at sky. Sunrise far off. Crouched. Followed, silent in night. I am good hunter.

Mad one crossed bridge over big river. Bridge full of cars, light. No shadows to slink across. I climbed high on steel. Truck drew near below, spitting clouds of poison. Pulled paws close. Timed pa.s.sage like running prey. Leaped.

Claws and paws. .h.i.t, scrambled. Metal scratched beneath. Crouched, catching balance. Like riding buffalo, rocking, claws scrabbling, instinct seeking flesh.

On far side of big river, city thinned, smells changed. Less death: sour river water, dead fish, alcohol, exhaust. More prey: domestic and feral cat, many dogs. Big rats-nutria. She had studied. Twenty-pound rats. Good to eat? Birds-prey and predator. Owls hunting. Bats. Squirrel, small mouthful. Mosquitoes, too small to catch. Swamp. Spill-waters emptying into lakes around New Orleans. Still-water stretched ahead. Sharp, pointed moon reflected on top.

Truck slowed. I jumped, landed. Drank water full of plant stuff and crawly things. House squatted in dark, down short road, just ahead, man-light in windows like predator eyes. No other houses near. Moved on bent legs, tail tucked close, following scent, to house, warded with power. Not witchy power. She came alert. Remembering. The People, she thought.

Her kind. Cherokee. I pushed her down. My hunt. Followed scent of mad one around property. Domesticated cat, dog-scent. Pets inside, with humans. In back, in trees, was low, wood hut. Sweat lodge, she thought, her excitement high. An elder lives here. I remember!

Inside, I put paw on her mind, demanding silence. Padded to lodge. Ground rank with mad one. Scent followed path, into woods. Well-used path. Lair near? Or it hunted elder.

No! she thought. Vision of kits, helpless. To be protected, she demanded. Such is an elder. I forced her down, deep, silent. She struggled. Swiped at her with inside claws, scoring her mind. This is hunting. She fell silent, angry, worried.

Tracked mad one into woods, pines, firs, oak, maple, sweet gum. Soil heavy with rotten stench. Elder's dogs had fed it, two dog bodies decaying in brush. This was hunting ground.

I moved slowly, tail held straight behind. Remembering speed of mad one. Didn't move like sick prey. Moved like wind, unseen. Fast. I stopped often, scenting air. Circled back, sniffing, into trees. No fire had cleaned forest; underbrush was thick. Path only way. Trap? Mad one would understand traps.

Trees opened into clearing, floor of pine needles. Hunched down, waiting. Nothing moved. Slowly, I circled open s.p.a.ce. Found nothing, no out-moving path, no trace of scent leaving. Carefully moved into clearing. Soil rank with its scent, heavy with reek of old blood. Liver-eater rot. It hadn't left. Yet was not here. Puzzling. A game and hunt for her, for Jane.

I looked at sky. Little night left. I/we were far from new den, from rock she marked to find place. Far from food that did not have to be stalked. Much dead cow in cold place in den.

Refrigerator, she thought at me. In the freebie house.

Turning, I padded back down path.

Near dawn I stopped at edge of city, in safe place, full of shadows. Garden near house where family slept. One snored. Jane awoke, clamored to be alpha. If I did not shift, Beast would be all day; she would not. But bad in this hunt. I/we slid beneath plant. Crouched. Let her come. I/we shifted. Gray place like half-dark of cave swallowed me. Light and dark, lightning in storm-torn sky. Bones slid, popped. Pain cut through like a thousand knives.

Hissed. Was gone.

I lay, naked and filthy on the ground, panting, trembling like I'd been struck by lightning. A spider crawled across my foot and I shook it off. The gray place of the shift had seemed to last longer than usual this time. I had no idea what really happened when I shifted, though I had seen a digital video of it, taken by Molly not long ago, and I didn't really disappear into some other realm. I just glowed like light and shadow, like lightning in a storm cloud. I figured it might be something like quantum mechanics or physics, my cells actually moving around but not going anywhere. Something like that. It wasn't like I had anyone to ask. When I got my breath, I rolled to all fours and to my feet.

I needed calories, fast, but first I needed clothes. I pulled off the pack and unrolled my clothes. Carrying them so tightly rolled meant they were always horribly wrinkled, but it was better than going naked. I slid into jeans and tee and strapped the pack, now containing only money, cell phone, keys, and weapons-a stake, a cross, and my derringer-to my waist and slipped on the thin-soled shoes. No bra, no undies. But covered. I wrapped my long hair in a knot, out of the way. At least it always shifted back untangled. Squaring my shoulders, I moved into the dawn, out from the eaves of a house. I had no idea where I was on a map, but my cat senses said I needed to head northeast. And I needed food. My stomach growled loudly.

In the early light, I spotted a convenience store and bought a candy bar for the calories, a c.o.ke for the caffeine energy punch, and a new tube of lipstick. I took them to the bathroom, where I cleaned up, washing my face and arms, scrubbing beneath my nails. I'd need to call a cab, and no self-respecting cabbie would stop for someone who looked as if she slept in her clothes under a bridge abutment. As soon as I was more presentable, I went back to the cashier, paid for a second candy bar and put on my best I-partied-all-night, world-weary look.

"Can you tell me where I am?"

He laughed. He was maybe eighteen, pimply chin, greasy hair, and smelled of weed and last night's beer. "You're near Lapalco Boulevard."

"I just came from woods, a swamp, and a lake that way." I pointed. "What's there?"